Fire Emblem 100 Challenge
by LitRaptor42
Summary: New chapter: 78, Tears. Rhys/Titania, set 15 years after Radiant Dawn.
1. Those Who Inherit The Blood of a Dragon

This is set sometime after Chapter 19. Also known as the PoR mission I hate the most, including the four Serenes stages.

So I finally gave in. IkexSoren hentai, here it is.

Excuse the brief diversion into allowing Kieran to be silly again. Sorry he keeps appearing in every FE story ever. (Of course, so does Naesala. FANBASE AHOY) Perhaps I make up for it by reinventing Crimean army protocol.

I don't own Fire Emblem, blah blah blah disclaimer.

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19. Those Who Inherit the Blood of a Dragon

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I leaned back against a tree, exhaling deeply in a great cloud of mist. What a ridiculously exhausting day this had been. First it had been the Begnion knights, who were not happy about a couple of deserted Daein wyvern riders who'd decided to fight with us. Then I had finally found out the source of the mysterious illness and subsequently had to bar my own sister from the kitchens for a week for giving everyone food poisoning. Then there were the world's most worst negotiations, with a sick tactician, a distracted lieutenant commander, and three extremely unwilling laguz. Between the hours of battle and those spent sorting out army trouble, I was ready to collapse.

Just this one moment of peace would be a life-saver. The distant sound of knights gleefully sparring by firelight was almost soothing, in its own way. It was competition, but it was happy, it kept the men's minds off the day's losses, it would make them sleep better that night... and best of all, it didn't require me to be there. The early night was cold, but I was more than happy to just stand with the snow falling down on me, everything blanketed, made more quiet by its cool layers.

I sighed contentedly, feeling a little less harried, and started making my way toward the healing tent. Rhys usually kept anyone who needed to be watched nearby, but tonight he himself was ill again, and I wanted to stop by one last time to check on both him and Soren. The healing tent was one of the larger structures, of course, easy to pick out despite the fat flakes of snow pouring down; I went around the back to avoid the dracoknights passing by. I had to admit, they weren't my favorite soldiers in the army, particularly considering that they'd already betrayed two countries. But, they had their strengths, and despite myself I was starting to respect Jill, whom they'd come looking for.

I was unsurprised to see Oscar coming out of the tent. "Hello, Ike," the knight said, quiet but cheerful, as always.

"Hi, Oscar. Things are calm inside?"

"Thank the goddess, yes. Just making sure that dolt is still asleep. Obviously he is, as you can tell." Oscar shook his head in amusement, dislodging the snowflakes that had already accumulated in his hair. "Sometimes..."

I grinned again: Oscar was clearly talking about Kieran, who had somehow contrived to break both legs in the battle today. No one knew how, either, and he wasn't telling: his horse had wandered back riderless, and we'd found him (quite easily, since he was roaring curses) helplessly foundering in a holly bush, mortified face redder than his armor. It had been an easy matter for Rhys to heal the knight, but the priest's orders that Kieran stay off his feet for another day were met with fulminations of disgust and sworn oaths to spar against his eternal rival that night, limp notwithstanding. So Rhys had slipped something into his food at dinner, and had a couple of the men drag him to the healing tent. I had to admire Rhys's cunning - especially because, hilarious as he might be, the camp and the sparring ring were vastly calmer without Kieran's shouting and swearing.

"Well, rest up tonight. From what I hear, tomorrow is going to be as rough as today. And with Mist banned from the mess, you might end up pulling some double duty."

"Actually, I'll look forward to it. I haven't had nearly enough time behind the grill. And you get some sleep, too, Commander," Oscar said, already walking away.

"Oscar?" I called after him, and he turned. "Why, uh... why do you care about him so much?"

He just smiled, and shrugged - a little sheepishly, if I wasn't mistaken. "If I don't save him from himself, who will?" I had to laugh: it was understandable. He sketched a neat salute, and added as he was disappearing in a swirl of snow, "Like I said, get some sleep, General. You need it even more than I do!"

Couldn't argue with that. I ducked into the warm tent, feeling as if I could lie down on the ground and sleep right now. The atmosphere inside was quite cozy, a gigantic brazier of coals radiating heat in the corner and bowls of hot water and a tangy-smelling essential oil scattered about. I glanced over at Kieran, peacefully passed out on one of several occupied cots, and had to stifle a laugh. Sometimes just the sheer entertainment of having some of my friends around was worth the exasperation of dealing with their mishaps. Like Boyd's poison ivy incident yesterday (evidently he'd never known that he was allergic), Shinon's occasional drunken rampages, and Lethe's hilarious, albeit sometimes violent, quarrels with Janaff. Poor Rhys: no wonder he was sick again, running back and forth with Mist, good-naturedly healing everyone.

I went over to where the priest was sleeping, and laid a light hand on his forehead; he was warm, but not feverishly so, and in my limited healing knowledge he looked fine. A little paler than usual, perhaps, but sleeping soundly. I moved one of the bowls - eucalyptus, that was it - closer to his cot, and smoothed the hair back from his face; still sleeping, he sighed, and seemed to relax. I rose satisfied that he was all right, and moved toward the center of the tent, trying to pick out Soren's slight form. The scent of the oils reminded me of my mother, and by association, my father. I sighed, trying to ignore the jolt my stomach always got whenever I thought of my father.

Revenge was all well and good, and I was looking forward immensely to executing my father's killer, but the fact was that war wearied me. Looking at all the sleeping forms, laguz and beorc - some as peaceful as Rhys, others tossing uneasily or breathing heavily - it struck me that we really were a pair of obnoxious races. Why could we not live in peace?

"Ike," said a quiet voice, and I finally picked out Soren in the dim light, heavy-eyed and exhausted.

"There you are," I answered, coming to sit on his cot. He was thinner than usual, though I would have been able to sit next to him regardless, what with him being the smallest member of our company, besides maybe my sister. What was that they said about tiny gems being the most brilliant, though? "No, lie back down. Still feeling bad?"

He shrugged, impenetrable as usual; but I could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he felt no better than he had earlier. It wasn't enough that he'd suffered through Mist's cooking mishap the day before, but he had been almost killed by an axe warrior today, and poisoned on top of it. Subsequently had been forcibly removed (by me) from the negotiations to prevent him from becoming seriously ill.

But this was something else, too: usually, even when he was practically near death from attack or sickness, Soren always had that subdued glare, the spit-in-your-face, honestly angry attitude that made him so terribly convincing as a tactician. Titania sometimes called it his Bitch Factor, and on those occasions I secretly agreed that he was unnecessarily unkind, though it was always an effective tactic. But for the last few days, even before getting sick, he'd been reserved to the point of being unable to convince the other soldiers of our plans. I could tell his mood had to do with what he'd mentioned the other day, something about his parents.

"Ike, I can't stay in here anymore," he said suddenly, hunching under the covers. "I can't... can't you feel it? The other men... I feel so... surrounded."

Startled - and somewhat uneasy - I looked around. There were several others in the tent, to be sure, but two of them were men that Soren knew quite well, and all of them were asleep. "Do you mean... in this tent? Or more generally? Soren, don't worry, these men aren't paying any attention to you."

He said something, but his face was buried in his pillow. I didn't understand a word of it, and sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to go somewhere else? I can help you back to your own tent." Then I added as an afterthought, "Even though Rhys will kill me in the morning."

There was a long moment, and then he answered, "Yes," in a very small voice. This was unnatural and frightening: I didn't like it one bit. It had to be resolved.

"All right," I said, watching him warily. "Come on, let's go before I lose my nerve."

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He made it halfway, wrapped in my cloak and leaning on me, before he tripped on something and went down face-first in the snow. "Soren! Soren, are you all right?"

"I hate winter," was his only reply as he clung to me, features white as the snow now dusting his bangs.

I bent over and bodily picked him up off the ground - the goddess, he was so thin, it hardly took any effort at all. Just as he was opening his mouth to protest, I said, "Shut up, Soren. If I'm going to be scolded to death in the morning for letting you leave, I might as well do it so you don't fall on your face anymore."

Soren didn't say anything, and I could feel him shivering through the cloak. I carried him the rest of the way, wishing it would stop snowing for five minutes so I could pick out his tent more clearly.

He'd left his own brazier going strong, anyway, so it was almost as warm as the healing tent. Besides that, I had never known anyone to match the amount of blankets Soren kept on his bed when the army was well-stocked.

"Okay," I said as soon as he was wrapped in as many layers as possible, and sat on his cot in the same way I had before. "Out with it. Why are you so damn troubled over what you told me the other day?" He merely sat, staring at his hands, and I demanded, "What have you got to be worried about? It's just me, Soren. Tell me what's the matter!"

"Damn you!" he suddenly yelled, hands clenching, and I started. "Why do you have to know, Ike? I... you..." The anger went away as quickly as it had come, and I could barely hear his voice as he said, "I don't... I don't have anyone else, Ike. You're the only one I can tell anything to, my only real friend, and if you... if you..."

I suddenly realized that he was absolutely terrified. "If I what? If I suddenly decide not to like you?" I shook my head, and leaned forward to put my arms around him. He shook me off, curling into himself. "Soren, don't do this. I trust you more than almost anyone else in the world. I will never stop being your friend. And if you don't tell someone this thing, whatever it is, it will just fester inside you. Look at you, you're a complete mess."

His sigh of resignment was almost a sob, choked back quicky. "I know. I know."

"So tell me. Please, Soren?" I spoke softly. It hurt me to push him, but I had to know: to satisfy my own desperate lack of knowledge, but mostly to help him.

He drew his knees up, burying his head in them for a moment, and when he raised his eyes to me I saw the tear tracks, and it all poured out in one word. "Imoneofthebranded." His shoulders shook briefly, but he bravely stared straight at me.

I could only blink, and reached out a hand to take his. He flinched but stayed still as he realized I wasn't going to hurt him. "You're one of the... what? What's a Branded?"

"A filthy crossbreed, half laguz, half beorc. It's... it's a crime against the goddess, an abomination. I'm cursed, damned!" His voice hadn't risen any, but I could hear the disgust and terror; his eyes weren't on me anymore, and his hand was utterly limp in my own. "That's what the mark on my forehead means. It... I found out, looking at books in the Mainal Cathedral. That mage though I was a spirit charmer, but I'm not!"

"Spirit charmer?" I asked, blankly. So far none of this was at all illuminating.

"You make a pact with a spirit and you get the powers of magic, and he thought I was one of them. I thought it was a birthmark... I guess it is." His voice was bitter as he explained, "That mage who trained me was only interested in me because he thought I had some pact with a demon, but I'm just a filthy Branded!"

I suppose he was expecting me to jump to my feet and exclaim something. But as it was, a calm, dawning sense of realization - mingled with a kind of excited awe - came over me, and I asked, "Okay... so... you're part laguz?" The temptation was very strong to ask him which tribe, but before I could even decide whether or not to ask him, he exploded.

"Yes, now you know! Now you can be disgusted, too! You c-can throw rocks and sp-spurn me and let me go off and die on my own, because th-that's w-what I deserve!" His tears got the better of him, but instead of leaning toward me, he curled up again, arms wrapped around himself. He looked so alone and small and miserable that I could have cried with him.

"Soren, why on earth would you think I would even care about that, much less do any of those things?" I asked.

"How does it not totally disgust you?" he whispered. "Why would you even want something like me around?"

"I wouldn't... What?" I exclaimed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Soren, you're not just my closest friend, you're an indispensible part of the army! It doesn't matter who your parents were, you're the best tactician we have, if it weren't for you we would all have been dead a long time ago, and we haven't a hope against Ashnard if you're not here!"

"But..."

"No!" I said firmly. "Look at me, Soren." He obeyed, eyes utterly devoid of hope; I put my hands on either side of his face, unable to help noticing the mark on his brow, but ignoring it nevertheless. "I don't care! Have you totally forgotten that I love the laguz? If anything you should expect me to like you more than ever! And besides that, what the hell does it matter? You're... you're you, you're the same person you were before I knew, or before YOU knew, and anybody who thinks differently is a moron. And..." I enfolded him in my arms, and finally he melted into me. "You know me better than anybody else, better than my sister or Titania. I don't throw rocks, if I don't like somebody, I tell them so and then stab them."

He laughed briefly, a little hysterically, and clutched me again, chest heaving against my own. I heard him gulp, and he finally asked, "Ike... you... do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do. You know, for a such a smart person, you're really quite stupid sometimes."

"Yeah." He sniffed, and raised a hand to wipe his eyes. "Ike, you..." Our eyes met. "When we met... in Gallia..."

That particular dark memory suddenly struck me, and I breathed, "That WAS in Gallia, wasn't it? I guess it was, I was only five or so. Soren, were you..."

"I was dying," he said simply. "No one would talk to me, the mage was dead, and I couldn't find food, and... you, you and later your father, you saved me. Ike, you're the only real friend I have. That I've ever had."

I stared at him, warmth surging through me, feeling - what? Not pity, not sorrow, but not exactly happiness, either. It might have just been simple gratitude. Before I could think too much about it, he leaned forward, eyes closed, and our lips met. The kiss was brief, and quite chaste - he pulled away quickly - but I found myself breathing hard. "I'm sorry," he said instantly, "I didn't mean... you..."

He took a deep breath, and put a hesitant hand on my shoulder. I pressed my lips tight, almost unable to breathe myself. Both of us tried to speak at the same time.

"I guess you-"

"That was-"

We both stopped and laughed a little. "You first," I said. His eyes were on mine, and I could feel his hand: it was moving toward my neck. "Or not."

"Well..." He bit his lip, then shrugged. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said, a little too quickly and hoarsely for my own satisfaction. I cleared my throat and tried again, putting my hand over his. "Yes."

Finally his hand came behind my head, and he pulled me closer, our lips dipping together again. The kiss was more experimental than the first, longer, but still somewhat hesitant. He pulled back this time, crimson eyes looking into mine. "Do you... Do you remember the night before I left to study?"

"Oh, the goddess, do I remember?" I groaned, graphic images flashing through my mind. We had both been so young, teenagers despondent at being separated, unsure of anything. The night had ended with us both naked, ashamed, hardly able to speak... but somehow satisfied. Even now it sent a simultaneous flush of horror and desire through me. "Oh, Soren. That was so long ago."

"I know," he said, eyes on me again, tone quite blank. "I know, it was, and I spent the better part of five years wishing I hadn't, and when I came back you were so different..." He stopped, swallowing, and for the first time I'd ever seen, he started blushing. Furiously. "Did you ever think that maybe - maybe it wasn't just a mistake? Maybe that's what... that's how we really feel?"

A dozen thoughts raced through my mind: "He's right, you know," alongside "Oh, Ashera, forgive me." I ran my fingers through his hair; his hand came up to my face, and a thrill shot through me. Something in my heart stirred, heat flashing over my body. Everything else in Tellius had disappeared; the only things that existed were the two of us, in this tent. There were just desires.

"I think... every time I see you, I don't know what to feel," I said softly. "Are we just... are we just friends, or do I want to defy the goddess and take you into me?"

"Or you into me," he whispered. "And now that I know... what I am... what difference does it make?" I swallowed, and this time I was the one to lean forward and join our lips. His tongue flicked into my mouth, and unable to resist any longer, I wrapped my arms around his slight figure, crushing him against me.

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It took so little time for our clothes to vanish, ripped off and thrown aside. The brazier gave off very little light, but enough for me to see every one of his ribs. The bed's rough cover chafed against my back as I pulled him against me, straining and gasping, sweat slicking our bodies. "I love you," he said at one point, though I could not answer. Skin rubbed against skin as we repeatedly plunged into one another, hands clenched on each others' shoulders, the night disappearing into short fragments of feeling. I cried out his name when I finally reached my climax, and he screamed breathily at his, fingers digging into my thighs. Never in my life had I ever felt so animalistic, so utterly whole.

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"Are you sure-"

"Oh, shut up already," I said again, patiently. "I told you, I'm sure. It makes no difference to me." Moving his hair aside for a moment, I kissed the mark on his forehead, then brushed his bangs back down. "If anything, I pretty much love the idea. Do you..." I hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Can I ask which tribe?"

"I don't know," he answered, somewhat tightly. "I don't remember my parents. And the old woman who raised me certainly didn't know. Or care."

I pulled him against me again. "I'm sorry. That was stupid, you've told me that before. I suppose that woman treated you badly because of your parentage, then. Was she a laguz herself?"

"No, she was a beorc." His head was pillowed on my chest, one of his fingers idly toying with my nipple. "Laguz just kind of ignore Branded... beorc are the ones who actively persecute them, in case you haven't noticed."

"I guess I did. But then again, for the most part they actively persecute laguz, too. Oooh! Stop that, it tickles!" I made a grab for his hand, and he snatched it back, laughing. I'd never seen him so happy, so flushed and satisfied, and my heart swelled to think it was because of me. "You know, this is probably no consolation to you, but wouldn't it be great to convince the others that you're a full-blooded dragon? The dragon prince looks just like a beorc, except with-" I poked his forehead "-so it would make as much sense as only having one laguz parent. And then they'd be too worried about you breathing fire at them to even look at you sideways."

His eyes were huge in horror, but when he saw that I was just joking, he shook his head, smiling a little. "As much fun as it would be to see the wyvern riders run the other direction every time I came around... rumor would spread too fast that you have a dragon in your army. Then you'd really be in a situation, when Deghinsea came flying in demanding my return to Goldoa."

Tears came to my eyes as I laughed, and it took a while before I could finally say, "Oh, Soren... I've been missing that kind of logic lately. It's good to have my pragmatic tactician back."

"And the pragmatic tactician is thinking you've already been in my tent for a little too long," he said frankly, brows contracting. "Not," he added, snuggling against me, "that I want you to go. But you are the commander of the Crimean Liberation Army... sooner or later something's going to go wrong, and when they find your tent empty there will be an almighty fuss. Wouldn't that be embarrassing: Tibarn would come looking for you and you would burst out of my tent with your breeches half-buckled."

I started laughing again, rolling over to wrap my arms around him. "Soren, if the entire army was standing outside this tent waiting for me to emerge, I'd walk out naked and dance for them rather than deny that I slept here tonight."

He reached over and plucked my tunic from the floor. One eyebrow rose as he asked, "Slept?"

"Fine... Perhaps that's not the most appropriate word." I took the tunic and sat up to start pulling my clothing back on. "I'm sure there are much more scandalous goings-on in this camp than you and I."

"Well, yes," he said, expression inscrutable, but a glint of deviousness in his crimson eyes. "Quite a few."

I raised my eyebrows and buckled on some armor. "Like...?"

He shook his head. "Only the obvious ones. The two paladins, Rhys and Titania, your sister and Boyd..."

"What?!" I exclaimed, dropping my cloak. "My... Mist and Boyd? What?" I fumed and stormed in circles, wondering if it would be appropriate to go bursting into my old friend's tent right now and beat the everloving snot out of him. "That's completely disgusting!"

"Oh, calm down," Soren said, shivering as he threw back the covers. "They haven't done anything yet, from what I can tell. They flirt incessantly, that's all. The deputy commander and her lover, though... that's a different story."

I gaped. "They... she... with Rhys? He'd disintegrate!"

"Well, he hasn't yet," he said, shrugging and pulling his boots on. "You just watch. When we get back to the healing tent, he won't be there."

"You don't just want to stay here?" I asked, frowning, and catching his arm as he fell off-balance, pulling his robes over his head. "You're not fighting in any battles today, I can tell you that right now."

"Maybe not," he admitted. As he put his arms around me, I noticed that we were just the right height: the top of his head fit snugly under my chin when we were standing. "I still feel awful. But not quite so..." he hesitated for a moment. Finally, he said thoughtfully, "Surrounded, I guess. It's... it's not just that you're the person I trust the most in the world. You're the commander, too. If you're convinced that my presence isn't a problem... well, the rest of the army really doesn't have any right to disagree, do they?"

"They absolutely don't," I agreed, a delightful feeling of satisfaction developing somewhere around my stomach and spreading upwards. "There have already been a couple of generals and commanders who tried to make me pick between one of the old mercenaries and them. Every time, they sulked when I didn't pick them over Titania, or Oscar... or you."

He looked up at me, and even though I could still feel his unhealthy warmth through his robe, his face was fiercely set again. I knew he would recover quickly now. "Good. We're what's left of your father's family. And that's more important than anything."

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"Go back to your tent and get some rest," he whispered sternly, for a moment resembling a short, raven-haired (and consequently somewhat terrifying) version of our priest. "I'll meet you for troop review in the morning, okay?" The brazier had burned down, and though it was still faithfully giving out heat, the light in the tent was now so dim that I could barely make out the other sleeping figures, all snoring peacefully. It was easy enough to tell, though, that Rhys's cot was notably empty. Soren noticed me looking, and his small smile began to carry a hint of smirk, his meaning quite clear.

"Yes, oh brilliant tactician," I answered, both in answer to his command and to his expression. Looking around ostentatiously, I leaned over for one last kiss. He pushed me away after a moment, but good-naturedly. "Thank you. Again," he said, softly.

As he was getting ready to say something else, though, two figures blustered into the tent. Instinctively, I crouched, though it was hard not to recognize Titania, armor and hair coated in snow. My jaw dropped as her companion flung off his equally snowy cloak and embraced her. Soren had been right - but it still made my head spin. From my father to... Rhys? "Good-night," said the priest simply, his voice somewhat husky, eyes fixed on her face.

Titania didn't answer: just kissed him deeply. Next to me, I could actually feel the cot shaking as Soren tried not to laugh out loud. How had the two of them not noticed us yet? This was so humiliating.

"Good-night," Titania finally answered, softly, and vanished back out into the cold. Rhys picked up his cloak, shaking out the melted snow into the brazier with a loud hiss, and started back toward his cot. I coughed, finally unable to stand the tension any longer, and he froze.

"Um... evening," I said; a glance at Soren showed me that the mage was traitorously pretending to be quite fast asleep. Treacherous little bastard.

Rhys's eyes were immense, but with great dignity he folded his cloak and carefully laid it across the cot, then said, "It is precisely what you think it is." Then, flushing, "Um... as long as you think that it's..."

I was hard-pressed to keep from laughing, but in all honesty the strongest feeling going through me was utter relief. Perhaps Titania was happy, then. "I try not to think too hard about anything that isn't my business," I said, coming toward him. "And as long as she doesn't get her head chopped off in battle worrying about you, it really isn't any of my business."

Apparently put at ease by what I hoped was my uncaring grin, Rhys relaxed, his shoulders losing their tension. I came forward and embraced him. "Sorry I didn't tell you, or anyone," he said, mild face somewhat confused when we drew back. "She just... we seem to be right for each other right now. Which doesn't make much sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense. And anyway, you're the reason she's still alive and fighting with us."

He grinned, cheeks pink, his sudden ebuillence startling me. "I guess so. Ike... thanks."

I shrugged. "For what? Understanding? You know me. I like everybody... well, except the Begnion senators." I suddenly felt exhausted at the thought of tomorrow: the apostle was coming for a discussion on laguz involvement in the morning. "Mmphm. I think I'd better get to bed before I end up sleeping here." Another glance back at Soren showed me one raised eyebrow and a small smile of contentment. No need to give a formal good-night, then. "See you in a few hours - and feel better."

"Thanks. Sleep well," was Rhys's reply as I stepped outside for the last time that night.

I was too tired and too cold to unwrap my cloak from around me and dance, but despite the wind trying to freeze my teeth together, I grinned all the way back to my tent. I liked being a general no better than I had that morning, but I could manage for a while yet. After this war, I swore to myself, it was back to the Greil Mercenaries with me, and to the simple friendship of my family. But until then... well, I had those friends to tide me over.

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	2. Heartbeat

Chapter Two: The Romance Resumes

Yes I know there weren't venin axes in Chapter 19, but it's just something that little punk Homasa would do. Grrr, he probably got them from Naesala.

In the same timespace as the last chapter. They won't all be like that. They also won't have this crappy of endings. I'm SO BAD at narrating for nice people.

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89. Heartbeat

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Rhys woke suddenly, a very slight draft of cold air washing over his face. It didn't take much nowadays to shake him out of a sound sleep. While battle was better than sitting around waiting for people to get back, and he did enjoy the ability to actually know what had caused a particular wound (rather than guessing frantically)... having to actually attack people made him uneasy, even if it was with the goddess's light magic. He shivered, drawing his blankets closer: then he realized that the draft must have been from someone entering or leaving the tent.

He sat up, his head spinning from the sudden movement: no one had come inside, and he checked the beds. Blast! Soren was gone. Rhys sighed, flopping back down in resignment. Hopefully, the mage had left with someone sensible like Ike, anyway. If he was worse in the morning... Rhys wasn't sure what he'd do, since yelling didn't seem to have any effect on Soren. But it would be something terrible. Maybe keeping Lethe and Janaff away from each other...

At least it hadn't been Kieran: he was still peacefully passed out two cots down from Rhys, slack face relaxed in a smile for once. Rhys wondered that none of the other knights had stopped by to check on their fellow paladin. Maybe they already had, when he was asleep. Whatever the case, Rhys had to smile to himself, partly in self-congratulation at being the first person to ever get Kieran to shut up for more than four or five hours at a time.

He suddenly felt a cough rising up, and smothered the fit in the bedclothes. What on earth...? Oh. Someone had come in and moved the nearest water bowl a bit closer to him. He got up and moved the table away slightly, feeling the deep tingle of its herbs in his throat. Now he was certain Ike had come and gone: it was a kind gesture, and for someone who didn't know anything about healing it would make perfect sense. But there was a reason the bowls were spaced out: the eucalyptus was fine, but a little bit of the camphor mixed in with it went a long way.

Abruptly another draft blew in, this time from someone's entrance. Rhys felt his heart beat a little faster as Titania came over to him, shaking snow from her long mane and cloak. "Feeling better?" she asked softly. The light from the brazier was dim, but he thought her smile looked unsure.

"Yes," he answered, quite honestly, and stood to embrace her. "I needed sleep, mostly." He cocked his head to look at her; she was very still, almost unnaturally so, and as the two of them sat down together on his cot, it became very clear that her face was pale, her expression wavered, and there were definite circles under her eyes. "On the other hand... this is going to sound very rude, but you look terrible. Were the negotiations really all that horrible?"

"Ugh, yes," she groaned, with an immense sigh. "For one, it was in the middle of the battle, right? So we sent off Oscar, Mist, and Stefan to distract the Daeins. We would've sent Kieran, too, but we couldn't find him -" She shot a dirty look towards her fellow paladin, who was blissfully ignorant "-so we just hoped the other three would come back in one piece. Then that damn raven wouldn't talk to anyone except the hawks, who didn't want to talk to him in the first place, in the meantime he almost killed Mia, and Reyson threw a fit when Janaff finally gave in... and then, of course, a bunch of Daeins ran in and attacked us, and Ike had to practically drag Soren off the field because one of the warriors hit him with a venin axe and we had no staves or antitoxin." She threw her arms in the air. "So while Ike vanished for ten minutes, I held off the Daeins while all the birds argued... at least until Oscar and Stefan and Mist came back, then I had some help."

She was close to tears, and he put his arms around her, distressed. "I mean, I was distracted in the first place, but there's bad blood between the bird laguz that I don't even think Soren can guess, much less Ike and I, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do if things went the wrong way and the ravens started attacking us in earnest. I'm pretty powerful, but nowhere near that level."

"I'm sorry, love." He kissed her forehead. "It seems like the lieutenant commander's job is a lot harder than the commander's, sometimes."

"No, I don't mean that," she said, but wanly. "I don't blame Ike. I don't know. It was just..." She shrugged. "I was really scared."

The thought of her being scared unnerved him, and he felt a sudden burst of annoyance at Ike: but he instantly banished it, knowing that she was right. It had just been a bad situation, and he said as much. "Thanks to you, it went well, though."

"I didn't even notice you on the field," she said, muffled in his shoulder, where she'd collapsed. "Where were you?"

"Off with a grave robber and a professional thief. I would've had Boyd with me, but he disappeared, too," he answered, somewhat flatly. "It was a great day: I got to practice killing people, Shinon found money on several of the bodies, and Volke stole me three new staves. One of which I used up by the time the battle ended." She looked up at him, eyebrows contracted in disgust, and he smiled ruefully. "Well... I guess I shouldn't judge, huh?"

"No, I agree. I guess Volke is just doing his job, but sometimes Shinon disgusts me," she said, dropping her head again. "I'm sorry, Rhys - I think next time you should just stay with me, or at least with the other paladins."

"I suppose anybody who was in the Royal Knights respects the enemy dead. And maybe the bird laguz would find me soothing, in my wimpiness," he added, trying to make her smile. But it didn't help. He hesitated, then asked, "Titania, what's bothering you? I guess I should really say 'what's been bothering you.' You're not just stressed out about war strategy and battles: I've noticed a change in you over the last couple of weeks. And most of the time you're all right, even under stress like this."

She was silent for a moment. Then she sighed. "I... I don't want to say it's personal. Because you know I don't have any secrets from you."

"I know," he murmured confidently, and she finally laughed.

"Yes. You know. But this is one of those things... and I don't know why it's been bothering me lately. It's one of those things that you don't... that you can't tell anybody. You don't even want to think about it yourself." He was surprised to feel a tear drip onto the front of his robes, and moving her away from him, saw that she was finally crying. "And I especially can't tell you, because... because..."

"Titania," he said gently, and she sniffed, rubbing her eyes and looked embarrassed. "You don't have to tell me. You really don't. But if it's going to upset you this much... I swear, there's nothing you could say that would change the way I see you. Not just because I love you, either. I know we haven't known each other for a terribly long time, but you're a good person. You can tell me anything." He paused, then added, "If you want to."

"Not here," she said after a moment. He frowned, confused, and she closed her eyes. "I... no one can know this, even by accident. Can we...?"

"Let's go to your tent," he said, gently, and she put her arms around him gratefully. "Just let me put some shoes on."

* * *

"I'm not going to say that I hate winter, but..." he said as she helped him up, laughing a little as he brushed the snow from his face. Some careless person had left a broken axe handle lying in the path, and he had tripped on it, gotten his hands tangled in his robes, and landed face-first in the deepening snow.

"Come on, my tent is right here," she said, giggling somewhat hysterically. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, just clumsy." The goddess, it was freezing out here! He shivered, despite himself.

She'd been out all day, so her fire was unlit, but the inside of the tent was nevertheless warmer than outside. He hung his cloak from the ceiling pole, and she obligingly made a very undignified 'eek' noise as he shook his hair, scattering snow. "Brrr," she said, and immediately pulled out a striking stone to light a small fire in the copper reservoir.

He put out a hand to stop her, and said softly, "Don't." She caught his expression, and smiled a little, and settled for lighting a candle.

Officers had lovely wide cots, he had noticed wryly a few weeks back, quite suitable for two to lie down on side-by-side. They stripped and did that now: with a pair of blankets over them, and the snow blanketing the outside of the tent so that it was completely silent, the tent became very cozy. He slid his arms around her waist, nuzzling the back of her neck. This was the first time he could remember feeling warm all over since the summer. "All right. Out with it."

She started a bit, then sighed. After a moment, she answered, "I don't know why I haven't told you this yet. Because you're one of the only people I've ever met who just... who doesn't judge anyone, really. I know you don't always like everyone, but you don't tell them unless you have to."

"Can't help it," he said, a little cautiously. Was this going to be a whopper of a secret? He didn't know everything in her past, of course, but from how busy she always was he doubted she had time in her life for scandals. Maybe a family problem had recurred...

"So I guess I was just hesitating because... your opinion matters the most to me." She rolled over to face him, and her clear eyes were troubled. "I would be devastated if Ike never spoke to me again, or if Oscar was really angry with me for it, but..." Her hand came up to his face, and his unease increased as she swallowed, clearly terrified. "I don't quite know what I'd do if I lost your good opinion. Even just to have you not speak to me anymore would be beyond my imagination."

"As well it should be," he said firmly, simultaneously thrilled to find that someone actually found him important, and also wondering what the hell could be this serious. "I said it before, I'll say it again: short of telling me you killed Ike's parents, or that you're Rolf's mother, you don't have to worry. I love you. Tell me."

As soon as he mentioned Ike's parents she stiffened: and he suddenly knew what it was. His heart leapt. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I need to find out how Commander Greil died. But Ike hasn't yet told us, and I don't know how to ask him, because I'm too involved. I was... I was in love with him. With Greil." As if Rhys needed to guess whether she was talking about Ike or his father. He put his arms around her, and she went on, bravely, though she was crying, "I would have done anything for Ike, because I knew exactly how he felt. But... but I have to know! And now you're going to think... oh, I don't even know!"

Her strong shoulders shook as she wept, and he held her, marveling that she'd managed to keep it secret for this long. No one else in the mercenaries, at least, knew, he was fairly sure, and he certainly had kept it to himself.

"Titania," he said finally, very quietly. "It's all right." She sniffled and looked up at him. "I... well, I already knew. About you and Greil."

"What? How!?" she asked, horrified. "Did you... did someone else tell you?"

He shook his head, smiling. "No. No, of course not. It was the very first day we met. You were so ill you were delirious. I didn't know Shinon and Gatrie at the time, so I never told them about it... but you said Greil's name." Several times, in fact.

She was silent, then laughed a little. "I guess I did."

"Yes." He wiped away one of her tears with a fingertip, and added, "When you invited me to come back and join the mercenaries, I found out pretty quick just why you loved him, too. He was..." Rhys shrugged, and finished, "He was the greatest man I've known yet."

"And you don't feel...?" She let the question hang, apparently unable to find the right word.

He shook his head, smiling. "Of course not. That had nothing to do with me, and it still doesn't, really. I felt all the worse for you when he died, because no one would bat an eye if Ike suddenly went off in a sulk, and or if Mist would cry for no reason sometimes. But you had to stay calm and keep a clear head, just like Soren and Oscar and I, even though I could see you were suffering much more than you let on. Besides," he added, pulling her closer, "if anything, I should be complimented. If I'm good enough to follow Commander Greil in your heart, that's more than consolation for perhaps being supplanted by him every once in a while."

"Oh," was all she said, but she rolled over and buried her face in his shoulder, arms tight around him. She said, muffled, "Ike knows."

"He does?" Rhys asked, startled. Well, apparently he'd been mistaken. "Then why are you worried about anyone else finding out? He wasn't mad, was he?"

"No, he wasn't mad at all, and I didn't even tell him really, he just... guessed. He thanked me for helping his father keep the mercenary troop together, and... then..." She shrugged helplessly. "He asked me if it was because of that, and I just couldn't answer."

It took Rhys a moment to get his face under control, and to say with composure, "Um, Titania? If Ike managed to guess... it's a good possibility a few of the others might have guessed, too."

She snorted, and the tickling sensation of it against his bare chest made him squirm. "Ooh! Don't do that! I just... I mean, you know Ike. He's fairly intuitive, but... the goddess, if he knows, Soren certainly does."

"Ugh, that's an unpleasant thought," she muttered.

"Maybe. But he keeps secrets better than anyone else."

"I suppose so." They were silent for a while; it was rare moments like these that he felt sublimely grateful, and in the place between sleep and wakefulness, he heard her ask softly, "Is it unfair of me to judge Ike by his father?"

Opening his eyes, he saw that she was still wide awake, but staring blankly through him. "To...to judge Ike?"

"The mercenaries..." she added quietly, "We never did things on a grand scale like this. We always worked to help people. That was what Greil always did, he tried to find people and help them. Like Oscar and Boyd and Rolf. They were at the end of their rope, and he gave them a home, something to live for. And whenever we took jobs, it was always just to help out. Sometimes we didn't even get paid, we just wanted to be there when people had no one else to turn to."

"Like Elincia." He was fully awake again, and what she said had suddenly struck a nerve. She was right, of course: but somehow he felt as if she was on the wrong track.

"Yes, like Elincia," she agreed, absentmindedly. She paused, then went on, "But here we are, fighting for glory and honor and the money of royalty."

"We're still fighting for Elincia. For her, and the others of Crimea who have no one else to turn to." Her eyes finally met his, and he added, "It might be a paying job, but Ike isn't getting anything out of it that you and I aren't. He doesn't want honor and glory any more than his father did. Maybe even less, especially since he's so young. When the war's over... well, it will all go back to normal, won't it?"

After a moment of consideration, her eyes changed. "Well..." Rhys didn't know a lot about Greil's past, only that he had once been a great warrior in Daein, then in Gallia, until his wife's death. But he was willing to bet that Ike was far less happy about his lordship than he ever let on. "I guess you're right."

"Titania. This might come as kind of an insult, but..." Rhys bit his lip, then plunged ahead. "You don't have to take on Greil's responsibility as a father, or even Elena's as a mother. It's all right for Mist to see you like that, because she's still a child - no, don't disagree, I've seen the two of you chattering before - but Ike is ready for whatever comes. He's much more mature than he was a year ago, and as someone from outside the situation, he's very, very much like his father. Maybe it's by necessity, but he's going to lead this army, and do it well."

She buried herself in his arms. "I know," she whispered. "You're right."

* * *

They slept for a while; on the rare occasion, she humored him by letting her hair out of its braid. Tonight she'd done so, and since they were wearing nothing else and the tent was very cold he was grateful for it. The glossy locks were invisible in the darkness (the candle having gone out), spilling across both of them and pillowing her head on his chest. Very gently, he ran a finger through it, marvelling that she could go into battle and take this hair with her, yet it always came out like silk.

"I can hear your heart," she murmured suddenly, nuzzling against him and sighing. He smiled, suddenly feeling a little sad. "I honestly don't think I've ever listened to it before." It was true: they were usually too exhausted when together to do much more than briefly make love and sleep.

"It's not terribly impressive," he answered.

There was a contented silence as she listened for awhile; he closed his eyes against the utter darkness and listened to his own heartbeat. It was pitiful, in his opinion: too quick, and sometimes irregular. It seemed to magnify in the muffled, snow-covered silence, and he wished her heartbeat would take over instead. He imagined the blood flowing through her veins, coursing confidently and surely throughout her body; it was probably used to being occasionally lost, and was all the stronger for it.

She abruptly sniffled, and he realized she was crying again; as he touched her face he felt the tears, seeping into her hair. "I'm sorry," she said before he could say anything, her fingers clutching into his waist. "Do you feel this way when I get hurt?"

He thought for a moment, and answered, "Usually when you're hurt... and this is mostly from having seen it so many times... first I feel a little bit of panic, but it's pretty much the same as when anyone else is injured. Then I try and get rid of that feeling, so peace will come to me for the healing. And then... there's just gratitude that you're well again."

"And if I didn't get well again?"

Her voice was unsteady, and her arms tightened around him again, almost to the point of discomfort. He suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Oh, Titania."

She said nothing, just pressed her face to his chest and cried. He was pretty sure that he was the only person who ever saw her this fragile, and he hated it. It wasn't so much the fact that she could be that fragile, or even that it was his burden to bear - certainly not that, he'd much rather it be his own than anyone else's - but merely because it broke his heart.

Still... he folded his arms around her. It was all well and good that she was worried over him, but he'd just as soon hear about Greil again than have her crying over his miserable health. "It's not all bad. Sometimes I feel positively strong, although that's usually when I'm angry with someone."

She sniffed, and he vaguely heard, "...n't know you could get angry."

"That's because it's never at you." He kissed the top of her head, adding in the most disgusted voice he could summon, "Right now it's Soren. If he ran off and died in the snow I take no responsibility for Crimea's defeat by Daein. The birds will peck each other to death and then turn on us if he dies and leaves us with no tactician."

Finally she laughed, lifting her head. "I'm sure he's with the commander. Ike said earlier that he was going back to the healing tent as soon as he could get rid of the Begnion pegasus knights."

"Speaking of the healing tent, I should be getting back there."

"Nooooo," she said in a low voice, and moved upwards for a long, slow kiss. Finally she added, "You'd have to put on your clothes again, and to do that you'd have to get up, and then you'd have to go outside, and you don't want to do that, it's so coooold..."

Rhys laughed. "Did I mention that I love you?"

* * *

Eventually they did get up and go outside, and back to the tent. There was just too much at stake; with a tent full of injured soldiers, he felt a responsibility to stick around and make sure no emergencies took place. In general, they didn't, but he didn't want to hear about them later from anyone else.

The tent was expectedly quiet. After quietly bidding Titania goodnight, Rhys was just about to lie back down when he heard a quiet cough. "Um," said Ike's voice, and Rhys froze. "Evening."

Rhys paused for a moment; thank the goddess, at least Soren was fast asleep - or at least pretending. So much for no one knowing about him and Titania. He felt a sudden stab of pride, and with great dignity folded his cloak, laying it down on his pillow. Who cared if everyone knew? So much the better for them to know that Titania was happy. "It is precisely what you think it is." Ike cocked an eyebrow, and with a flush Rhys hastily added, "Um, as long as you think that it's.." Oh, dear.

Ike looked as if he were about to explode with laughter, but managed to keep it in, cheeks pink. "I try not to think too hard about anything that isn't my business," he said, and Rhys felt an immense surge of relief. "And as long as she doesn't get her head chopped off in battle worrying about you, it really isn't any of my business."

She wouldn't, Rhys thought immediately. Not because she didn't care enough about him - but because she knew better than to jeopardize everyone else's lives by worrying far too much about one other person. But he didn't know how to say it; and suddenly he wondered how Ike must feel, if indeed he did know that Titania had been in love with his father. "Sorry," he said, feeling a little confused, and was grateful when Ike came forward and briefly embraced him. "Sorry that I didn't tell you, or anyone. She just... we seem to be right for each other right now. Which doesn't make much sense."

And it really didn't, did it? It seemed like the last person Titania would have a relationship was a mild-mannered healer (Rhys didn't have any delusions about himself, anyway)... but perhaps... "It doesn't have to make sense. And anyway, you're the reason she's still alive and fighting with us."

Rhys looked at Ike, who steadily looked back, and he suddenly felt a rush of pride. It was true: the Greil Mercenaries might not have survived for much longer, had Titania died that day over a year ago, much less become the Crimean Liberation Army. He grinned. "I guess so. Ike... thanks."

Ike shrugged. "For what? You know me. I like everybody... well, except the Begnion senators." He yawned, and I almost thought I saw him peeking backwards at Soren as he covered his mouth ostentatiously. "Well... Mmphm. I think I'd better get to bed before I end up sleeping here. See you in a few hours - and feel better."

For a moment Rhys could have laughed out loud. Ike, the eternally casual commander. But the difference between him and others was that he really did care. "Thanks. Sleep well," he said as Ike stepped out of the tent.

What a night. Rhys glanced around - all of the soldiers were breathing deeply and peacefully now, the braziers down to a faint glow and the eucalyptus scent gentler than before. It felt like the calm before the storm, but for some reason Rhys didn't think it would be. He laid back down on his cot, rolling up in the covers, and smiled to himself. It was amazing how different people could be, and yet still understand one another.

* * *

Fin.


	3. Smile

Chapter Three: In Which I Invent (And Tell You) How Armies Are Fed

Every other Cooking!Oscar fanfic limits him to cooking frickin' soup. Dammit, armies don't live on soup! They keep up their morale by eating meat and bread and eggs and vegetables and BEER! (Unless they're Naesala and then they live on ANGST)

I... I need more sleep.

* * *

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

#69, Smile

* * *

Some day, I thought, he's going to kill himself and not even notice. Just keep charging onwards, axe arm and mouth gleefully not noticing that his heart had stopped. I leaned over and flipped off the blanket briefly to take a look at his legs. Perfectly fine now, of course: not even a sign of scarring. Rhys never spared any expense or time when healing someone - even when a cavalier was galloping down on him, we'd been impressed to find out one day - and after having doped Kieran, had come back to the healing tent again, staff in hand, to repair the minor damages.

I was getting ready to pull the blanket back over his legs when I stopped briefly to admire their neat straightness and to draw a finger down the lanky shine where the shinbone stood out against the skin. Then I blushed, looking around for a moment, and let the wool blanket drop. I was letting this get the better of me, and I knew it. Everyone already suspected us, of course: if Ike had looked at us sideways, then it was all over the camp, since he was the last one to follow gossip. But no one knew anything but conjecture: the only person who'd seen us kiss was Rhys, and he'd just smiled and (if he'd been less subtle he might have started whistling) looked the other direction. Some people (unlike Kieran) knew when to keep their mouth shut, and would admit to when something was and wasn't their business.

Still, it was one thing to have our quiet healer see us kissing, and quite another to have my brother - or someone worse - pop in to pay a visit and catch me caressing his unconscious form. I leaned over one more time to kiss his forehead briefly, and to smooth down his hair. To my surprise, his mouth suddenly turned up in a smile, his head turning towards my hand. Like a kitten, I thought, somewhat touched by just how adorable he could be when unconscious. Well, everyone had to be sometimes.

I stood, fastening my cloak. He would be incoherent with rage when he awoke: the thought was hilarious, though I felt bad for whoever would have to deal with it. Then, of course, maybe it would be Soren. I looked in the direction of where the mage lay sleeping, and couldn't help but grin. That would be good for both of them: Kieran's blustering would be utterly laid waste by Soren's quick, sarcastic tongue, and Soren himself would get a chance to exercise his anger on someone who actually deserved it. Then my favorite red-haired cavalier would have yet a new archrival.

As I stepped outside, I saw the commander approaching. It was snowing harder now, and I could already feel the fat flakes accumulating in my hair. "Hello, Ike," I said, and he looked up, noticeably exhausted.

"Hi, Oscar," he answered, and stopped beside me, next to the tent, and gazed at its entry flap. "Things are calm inside?"

I had to resist snorting, knowing exactly what he meant. "Thank the goddess, yes. Just making sure that dolt is still asleep. Obviously he is, as you can tell." Both of us had been in the party that found Kieran earlier. It hadn't been hard: Boyd had come running, and before we'd even come near that part of the forest we'd been able to hear his cursing. I shook my head ruefully, chuckling. "Sometimes..."

"Well, rest up tonight," he said, eyes still fixed on the text. "From what I hear, tomorrow is going to be as rough as today. And with Mist banned from the mess, you might end up pulling some double duty."

The urge to ask him exactly how Mist had managed to poison half the troops with nothing but perfectly good food was overwhelming. But looking at his exhausted face, I resisted the impulse and answered, "Actually, I'll look forward to it. I haven't had nearly enough time behind the grill." I put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up. "And you get some sleep too, Commander."

He nodded, and I had already started walking away, when he called after me, voice curious. "Oscar?" I turned back; it was difficult to see his face in the swirling snow, but he clearly hesitated before asking, "Why, uh... why do you care about him so much?"

The question took me aback, and I wished I was closer, to see his expression. But I shrugged, grinning, and gave the most truthful answer I could come up with. "If I don't save him from himself, who will?"

Ike laughed, sounding relieved, and I saluted briefly, an inkling of why he'd asked starting to grow in my mind. I didn't want to think about it too long, though, and started moving away. If I really was going to be in the mess tomorrow morning, it was high time I headed there to get things under control. "Like I said, get some sleep, General. You need it even more than I do!"

He made no response, and I just barely saw him slipping into the tent. I knew exactly who he was going to visit: it was just more of a question about what the nature of the visit was. Soren had been unusually apathetic lately: perhaps a result of being poisoned and attacked all in the same day - not to mention having been the first victim of Mist's little adventure - but that didn't seem to be it. I didn't know the mage very well, but I'd seen enough of his behavior to know that when he was sick, his sullenness only increased.

As I trudged toward the lights and fires of the main army I reflected on what I did know about Soren. He'd been with Greil's team much longer than I and my brothers had: from what Rolf had found out from Mist and had subsequently insisted upon telling to me, she couldn't remember a time when Soren hadn't travelled with the mercenaries, just like Titania, Shinon, and Gatrie.

And of course, everyone knew that Soren and Ike were the very best of friends. Even when Ike had to reprimand him for his sharpness to others, or (as in one particular case) save his life, there was a mutual respect between them, a trust that I didn't think even Titania could understand. I wondered where it had come from.

I shook my head, trying to get the two of them out of my thoughts as the mess tent came into sight. Either Soren's problem would work itself out, or Ike would help him with it: that much was obvious even to me.

There was a small group gathered outside the tent, men and women munching on loaves and the like left over from dinner. I sighed, knowing I would have to get things under control before they found the more precious commodities, the eggs and the very small supply of butter. We had a couple of other cooks, of course, but Mist had always been the one who directed things, commanding the other men in her high-pitched young voice. They had at first been amused, but after finding out that she was not only the commander's sister, but also an experienced chef and relatively skilled manager, their respect had grown to love. It seemed a shame that she had caused the food poisoning epidemic... though also somewhat unlikely, too.

I frowned, wondering if she was just shielding one of the other cooks. The thought seemed quite likely. While she did her duties at the kitchen quite willingly, every once in a while it seemed as if Mist was much more interested in just sitting around with Titania, or sometimes even training with her. I couldn't imagine that she'd engineered an epidemic just to get time off from the mess, but I could see her scolding one of her sous-chefs, as she liked to call them, for causing it, then agreeing to take the blame herself.

Well, if she had done it, she definitely would have made sure to instruct the faulty chef on how to avoid ever making that mistake again. I wasn't too worried about that.

I ducked into the tent, closing the flap behind me and shaking off my cloak. An "eep!" from behind me made me whirl, to find my brother, indignant and covered in the snow I'd just shaken off. "Hey, thanks!"

"Sorry!" I said, unable to keep from laughing. "Sorry, I didn't know you were there. Here, hang on..." I brushed at his face to get the snow off, since each of his hands had a loaf of bread in it. "What are you doing here, Boyd?"

He shrugged, shaking his head like a puppy, subsequently spraying me back with snow. "Same thing as the other guys. We're not short-stocked on any of the bread rations, are we?"

"Depends on how many of you there are, and how long you've been here." I couldn't quite manage to find a suitably grumpy tone of voice, so I just settled for cheerful. "No, we're not short-stocked on any of that. Don't go using any of the butter, though."

"I won't, I'm not that dumb. I like being alive," he said, already on his way out. "You know Mist didn't cause the food poisoning, right?"

"Well, I guess I do now," I answered. "Do you know what actually happened?"

He paused and sighed. "Well, she still won't say who it was, but one of her buddy cooks accidentally used some kind of oil or fat to cook the eggs with yesterday morning... but it was something like four months old." He grinned at my horrified expression. "It was a mix-up with inventory, she claims. Me, I think he's probably a moron. But she wants the time off."

"I figured." My suspicions confirmed, I smiled at him and tossed my cloak onto the table. "Well, I won't hold you up."

"Night." Boyd turned, but almost immediately stopped and turned back, mouth open as if about to say something. I just waited. "Oscar, I..." He hesitated, and tried again. "Okay. I kind of want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you'll get angry with me."

I sighed. Not again. "Is that because you deserve it, or because I nag?"

He couldn't help it: he grinned. "Maybe both? I don't know. I didn't do it on purpose, either, it was just... kind of an accident."

I'd seen him looking at Mist lately, and had overheard their ridiculously flirtatious conversations. Not to mention that they tended to spend almost as much time together as Kieran and I did, but no one thought anything of it. I looked at him closely: it didn't appear to be that, though, and I hoped it wasn't. If Boyd tried anything, a very angry Ike might show up at his tent in the middle of the night with a very large sword. "So what happened?"

My brother set the two loaves down side-by-side on the table, and leaned against it himself, face pained. "Well... you know how you and Mist and Stefan got sent off to fight people, but they couldn't find Kieran to go with you, and then later out they found it was because he hurt himself? The same thing kind of happened with me... I was supposed to go with Rhys and Volke and Shinon, but... I didn't."

It took me a moment to recognize that there was a correlation and that this wasn't, in fact, about Mist. "Are you trying to tell me that you and Kieran were not with us because... you were somewhere else, and it was the same place?" Oh no. "Did you..."

"I tried to talk to him about you!" Boyd pleaded, hands up defensively. "I just wanted to know what the hell was going on, but he got... how he gets, and then I think I must have made him mad, because he charged off and... wrecked into a giant tree that was lying on the ground, and his horse threw him off into the bush." His ears were so bright red that it was amazing his hair wasn't on fire. "And I guess it was kind of my fault, but when I tried to go help him he just yelled at me so... I came back to tell people where he was and didn't mention that I'd been there."

He started when I burst out laughing, doubled over and unable to contain myself any longer. It was almost a whole minute before I got ahold of myself enough to speak again. "So that's... that's w-why he wouldn't tell anyone... h-how it happened," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "Oh, Boyd. No, I'm not mad at you, but what did you ask him?"

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. I wondered if it bothered him, me having a relationship with Kieran. Or, for that matter, if Boyd even knew. "Just stuff. You two are always hanging out together at night, and..." He looked at me, nose wrinkled. "Doesn't he just drive you nuts?"

I laughed again, nodding. "Yes. Yes, he does. But I love it. No one else is so totally irrational. Except maybe you, but at least sometimes I can talk you out of stuff."

Evidently it didn't bother him, because he clearly knew everything. He looked at me, and picked up the two loaves again. Oh, young men with their hearts of iron and stomachs of sponge. "Well, if you're not mad..."

"No, I don't know why I should be. Kieran just..." I shrugged helplessly. "I guess he doesn't want other people to know. About... us." It gave me a faint thrill of pleasure to say it, though I never stopped watching my brother. "I dunno, maybe I don't want people to know, either. And honestly, maybe he just has no idea that other people... suspect."

Hesitating slighty, he asked, "So... are you two...?"

I made a face, and then admitted, "Yes. And we're happy. I am, anyway."

"Yeah, who the hell would know, with him?" I couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but it wasn't sarcastic. Then I saw the grin, and he added, backing toward the exit, "Weird. You're both just weird."

"Oh, stuff it," I said, as he left. After he'd disappeared, I sat down. "Wow." It was almost enough to make me start laughing all over again. Kieran must have been ready to explode. To think, his archrival-lover's brother coming and asking suspicious questions. I could hear him in my head. 'Dishonorable dastard, how dare you pettily demand such probing information!'

I got up and walked back towards the storeroom (really just a medium-sized tent near the back, tied shut around boxes and bags of supplies), unable to keep from chuckling to myself. Oh, Kieran would never hear the end of it now: I'd make sure of that.

* * *

* * *

Mist had kept excellent track of our supplies: the only things we were short-stocked on were cheese, butter, and milk. Even the eggs were well-stocked. And of course, I reflected, it was cold. Daein's winters were good for one thing, at least: when we managed to keep the livestock alive, perishables wouldn't go as fast.

In fact, there really wasn't any reason for me to be here. I thumbed through her little box of recipes that she kept in with the perishables, filed under two stacks, one for 'Army' and another for 'Friends'. Her notes in the latter group made me smile. One meat recipe read, "For Ike: three tablespoons chili powder. For everyone else: two teaspoons." Then a recipe for beans: "Don't forget Titania hates crunchy onions!" The newest recipe in the box made me laugh out loud: "Oscar says use pearl onions. Better with leeks." I had vehemently argued over that with her, but during one dinner had come to the dismal realization that regardless of my tastes, everyone else liked her recipe better.

I sighed in contentment, picking up her inventory list one more time. I would have to get up early the next morning to serve everyone before we made our way onwards. But I loved cooking and serving people... and it was awfully convenient, since Kieran would wake up and, after yelling at poor Rhys, would undoubtedly stomp off in search of me. I had already told Rhys to blame everything on me: it would just make things easier, since if I were doling out breakfast Kieran would subside, red-faced, until we had a moment of privacy. That was the nice thing about us having what he considered to be an illicit relationship: unsubtle as he might be about it, Kieran never fought with me over anything personal until we were alone.

The tent flap opened again, and Mist pretty much danced in, perching on a stack of boxes. "Hi, Oscar!"

"Evening," I answered, and, raising my eyebrows, asked, "Aren't you banned from here?"

"Oh, no, just from cooking," she answered cheerfully. "I thought I'd find you in here making sure I'm not an idiot. I have news!"

"I know you're not an idiot, I'm just obsessive. Besides, I haven't been here for awhile, I wanted to get familiar with everything. Anyway... What's the news?" I leaned back against a stack of heavy crates. Hopefully nothing else about Kieran, that was for sure.

"Well, you know how Jill is from Daein?" I nodded, somewhat relieved, and she giggled. "We were outside goofing around in the snow earlier, and apparently she met someone from the countryside that knew her. And voila! The person, whoever it was, offered her a cow with a young calf, and half a flock of chickens." She shook her head, laughing. "They still haven't figured out that Jill's on our side now. But in any case, she said that as long as we don't mind that they're kind of... an unintentional gift from our enemy... then we should probably take them."

"I suppose we should," I answered quite happily, my mind already conjuring up visions of eggs and more butter. It was a bad time of year for it, but anything like this was a great surprise. Still... "Poor Jill." I suddenly felt badly for her; it wasn't her fault the country peasants mistook her for being on their side. And it certainly wasn't their fault, either: they'd been brainwashed by Ashnard for years.

"Yeah, she felt really awkward until I told her not to worry about it," agreed Mist. "I'll be glad when we're done here in Daein, partly for Jill... but also because I don't like the way we look when we're fighting against the Mad King. I mean, we're here to free Crimea, not take over Daein."

"You're right," I agreed. "But hey, the way your brother is taking us, we should be done soon. We'll be back in Crimea before summer, probably."

"Yeah," she said, brightening a little. "That's a nice thought... summer. I like snow, but not like this. And summer in Crimea is always beautiful."

I just smiled. Even when Mist was acting as much like an adult as she possibly could, her girlishness still shone through. It was no wonder she and Titania had so much fun together when they weren't working, fighting, or training: Titania was, after all, somewhat motherly at times.

"Well, okay," she sighed, then bounced to her feet. "I just wanted to let you know. I'm sorry you have to take over my job, but I'll bet more dairy stuff will make cooking more fun this week!"

"Yup," I said. She had almost left the tent again when I finally remembered to ask. "Oh, Mist!" She turned back, eyebrows inquisitive. "Who really gave everyone food poisoning? I know it wasn't you."

Suddenly she turned bright red, and to my surprise she snorted, clapping her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said finally, giggling. "I don't mean to laugh, but... I promised him I wouldn't tell anybody." She paused, and with relish added, "Especially you."

It took me a moment; and then I knew. "Oh, no," I said, horrified. "No, no, it can't be." I paused in disbelief as she completely lost her composure, howling in glee. "Really?"

"Yes!" she cried, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, Oscar, he just wants to be as good as you at everything." That he always wanted to be better than me was more apt, but I wasn't about to burst Mist's bubble. "I wouldn't even have said yes if he hadn't looked so forlorn the other day, when you did dinner and everyone was saying how good it was, and then he was so unusually polite and nice about asking me to help him, no 'dastards' or 'wretches' or anything."

Her laughter was infectious: even in disbelieving horror I couldn't help but join her mirth. "But... but why? Why the hell would you even let him try to cook, he's a complete disaster at anything with food! I remember one time back when we were in the Knights, they put him on kitchen duty and within three hours he was banned for life!"

"Well, I didn't know that! And I'm certainly not letting him talk me into it again!" she exclaimed. "At least we can thank the goddess he didn't do anything worse than forget what rancid oil looked like."

I leaned over, groaning, wondering if I should keep laughing or just go to the healing tent and kill him outright. "Yes. Oh, Ashera, yes." That was the thing with Kieran: if a little was good, more was better, especially as far as I was concerned.

Mist came over and hugged me, still giggling. "I'm sorry, please don't tell him you know. He's a pain in the ass sometimes, but I can't help but like him, and I know you can't either."

"Sometimes," I said, trying to sound aggravated, though I knew she was right, and she giggled yet again.

"Oh, yes you do. Come on, who else in this army is going to get up at the crack of dawn every single day and start galloping around camp announcing that today is the day we win back Crimea for the Princess? We need that kind of morale in a war like this!"

I finally grinned. About that, she was more right than ever before. "Yeah. We do. Well... thanks for giving him a chance, Mist." To be truthful, it was more than most people did: aside from other Royal Knights, very few people would put up with Kieran for very long. I think the only reason Ike let him stick around was because of his fervor for Elincia.

"No problem. I secretly kind of like having a few apprentices." Her eyes sparkled. "I suppose it must be exactly how you felt when you started teaching me things."

"Except you were never, never, never as bad as Kieran is." I shook my head mournfully, then looked up at her, pretending to smirk. "Even that one time you didn't manage to cook the meat all the way through and then used tomatoes in the sauce and burnt the whole thing so badly that we couldn't tell what was the blood and what was the tomato."

"You promised you'd never bring that up again!" she accused, pointing a finger at me, eyebrows thunderous. "That was the first time I ever cooked meat, and you were sick so I had to do it by myself!"

I bent over double laughing again. "Thank the goddess for your father, you might've cried if he hadn't stepped in. Do you remember his face? He was practically green, but once he'd choked down a bite everyone else had to."

She pouted, managing to look angry for almost five seconds. Then she laughed, and her eyes shone. "Yeah. Dad was so patient with my cooking... sometimes I couldn't even tell how awful I was."

Her tone had suddenly become a little sad; I put an arm around her and added, trying to sound as cheerful as possible, "Well, your dad was a great man. Greater than I'll ever be. And I hate to say it, but as much as I love Kieran, I'll never be able to choke down his cooking like your dad would've."

She giggled at the thought. I knew that she didn't need me to tell her anything about Greil; Titania had given more encouragement to her that any of us could have imagined, and she knew how great a man he'd been. But it had only been a few months since he'd died, and while I rarely worried about Ike (we all knew that he consoled himself by strengthening up for avenging his father) I hated to see Mist sad. "Me neither," she said. "I aspire to that potential someday, but not right now." Thank the goddess, though; she had, some time ago, reached the point where she could wax nostalgic about her father without breaking down into tears.

"Well," she added, standing up, "I'm sleepy from riding all over the place today with you and that crazy swordsman. People with green hair wear me out. So I'm going to bed."

The last sentence had been pronounced with a nod and fiercely contracted eyebrows, as if I were going to challenge it. I smiled. "You do that. I think I'm heading off, too... I need extra sleep tonight if I'm going to survive the morning's wrath."

She giggled one last time, and danced out of the tent with a "Good-night, then!" I sighed, feeling far more contented than I should after such a rough day. There had never been anything like Mist's smile to bring joy to her father's face; and even now that he was gone, when she summoned that smile, it kept us all happy.

I left the supply tent, giving a strict warning to those standing around on the way out that under no circumstances was anyone to take anything but bread. In truth I didn't really care, but strictness was only effective if constantly applied. It was time to go sleep off the day and prepare for the war I was sure was going to be waged against me in the morning. But at least now I had ammunition. I shook my head, grinning, and kicked some snow up in a fan of flakes. I could never really put my finger on the reason I so loved a person so vehemently self-proclaimed as my archrival (whatever that meant); maybe it was just because, like Mist, he made me grin.

* * *

Fin.


	4. Wedding Ceremony

* * *

This takes place about five years after the end of the canon, so about three years before my Oscar fic "Back in the Knights," since I felt a need to explain why Shinon is once more in the Greil Mercenaries (at the end of _Akatsuki no Megami_ it says that he never rejoined). I'm planning on continuing it with... maybe... some stuff in Daein, with Ike and Soren?

Yes, it has a lame, abrupt ending: but then again, unlike most FE 100 Challenge fics, it's also more than five paragraphs long. *grins* I ran out of anti-Ike steam.

LOOK A NAESALA CAMEO HOW ORIGINAL

"Weddings! I love weddings! Drinks all around!"

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#100 - Wedding Ceremony

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* * *

It wasn't that Boyd didn't look good in dress clothes. It was just... Shinon squinted and tilted his head. Yep, that was it: it was just that he was so much like Ike, who had never really taken to his little lordling outfit. Both of them, with that messy hair, too many muscles, and no care for their looks, had the ability to make a doublet look crinkled and worn immediately after stepping into it. Boyd was clearly uncomfortable, fiddling with his tie and rolling his shoulders under the tight cut of the cloth. Shinon snorted, and flicked a bit of dust off his own jacket. What a charade this was going to be.

He looked away from the groom, who was anxiously buttoning and unbuttoning his cufflinks, and glanced over at the rest of the party. Several former mercenaries had come, even some who now worked in Daein and Begnion. The table of presents was piled high - what with their friendship to the Empress of Begnion and the Queens of Daein and Crimea, not to mention all those sub-humans who had worshipped Ike, anything marital the mercenaries did amongst themselves was certain to be rewarded richly. Besides that, Titania (having replaced Ike as commander of the mercenaries) had invited every practically every person in Crimea.

Shinon noticed that while most royalty had stayed away, more than a few of the sub-humans had shown up, obviously in hope of seeing Ike again, and wrinkled his nose. He'd gotten used to working with them just fine, with the understanding that they provide at least as much use to the mercenaries as he did, but it was still an effort to actually like many of them. Especially some of those sneaky birds: it was still impulse to reach for his bow (which he didn't have) when he saw the ravens flying in. That blue cat hadn't been too bad, and the hawk Janaff had been borderline likeable, but still...

The thought of reaching for his bow made him frown and look around, more intently this time. Where on earth could that little green-haired kid be? Shinon hadn't seen him for a few years now, but he knew Rolf had stuck around with the mercenaries, so he must be here somewhere. He wasn't the best man - that was his brother, standing over there with half a dozen other Royal Knights, smiling insipidly at something Titania was saying. They all looked desperately overdressed.

Shinon pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against and began strolling out into the crowd, ignoring the young girls throwing looks in his direction; he recalled that Rolf had had a bit of a crush on Mist at one point. Maybe it was sheer jealousy of his brother that kept him away. Shinon couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the kid: Rolf had by far been his favorite of any of the mercenaries, after all, and Shinon had never liked seeing him miserable. If he were still in love with Mist...

"Shinon! Over here!" a voice called, and he looked over to see Gatrie, waving excitedly at him. A surge of warmth overcame him, and he immediately started striding in the direction of the blonde knight. It gave his stomach a turn to see that his old friend was still palling around with that sub-human cat girl, but it was overcome by the surprising realization that he really was happy to see Gatrie.

His friend threw his arms quite unabashedly around him, and Shinon, ribs crushed, croaked breathlessly, "Hello, Gatrie."

"Shinon! How are you doing?" Gatrie demanded, face beaming. "I haven't seen you for a couple of years now! Still taking mercenary work on the side, or just loafing about?"

Shinon straightened his tunic, brushing out the wrinkles, and answered, "Mostly lazing around, doing odd jobs. And you? Still with the Mercenaries, I hear?"

"Of course!" his friend answered, as obnoxiously cheerful as a sunflower in July, and looked behind him. "You, uh... you remember Lyre?" His expression suddenly dropped, and Shinon grinned, remembering what he'd said when finding out about Gatrie's sudden infatuation during the war on Begnion.

"Yeah. You married to her yet?" he asked, but not as sarcastically as he'd meant to, and Gatrie's face brightened.

He sighed in obvious relief, and called out, "Hey, Lyre!" The slim figure looked away from one of the other cats, and skipped over, tail flouncing. "No, we're not married yet. I dunno if we're going to, we don't see a lot of each other. Lyre, you remember Shinon?"

She looked him up and down in distaste with those giant green eyes, clearly remembering him all too well. "Yeah. Still relentlessly bigoting against laguz?"

"Lyre!" Gatrie exclaimed, and Shinon grinned.

"Not really. Still unendingly chasing after Skrimir's odd-eyed kitten aide?" She hissed at him, and Gatrie looked as if he were ready to cry. In deference to his friend, Shinon shrugged. "Hey, it's a wedding, I don't want to start any fights. Any news on when this shebang is going to start?"

"N- no..." Gatrie answered, warily looking back and forth between the two of them. "I think Rhys said whenever everybody gets here."

"Everybody including little Ikey and his mastermind?" Shinon asked sarcastically. It was common knowledge that Ike and Soren hadn't been seen or heard from in Tellius for a good five years, having gone somewhere out past the Grann Desert and never returned.

Gatrie shrugged now, looking unconcerned. "Mist said yesterday that if he didn't come it was his business. If he wants to be enough of a dunderhead to miss my wedding," he imitated a squeaky woman's voice, "he'll have a big surprise waiting when he gets back!"

Shinon choked on a laugh, and coughed to cover it. They'd sent out messengers, but unless they'd actually found the two (and the prospect seemed unlikely), Ike certainly would have a surprise: to get back from his travels and find his sister married to Boyd. Shinon had to admit that it really was kind of unexpected: Rolf had always been hanging around her when the Mercenaries were in their glory years, and to have Mist decide to marry his older brother seemed... awkward.

"I think we're going to start soon," said a gentle voice behind Shinon, and he turned to see Rhys, dressed very simply in a white robe. "Everyone who's expected to come is here, and Mist is ready." The priest turned to Shinon, and the archer noticed that Rhys looked older, but only a little more careworn. That was pleasantly surprising: life must be treating him well. "Hello, Shinon."

"Rhys," Shinon answered, feeling - what was this? - a little self-conscious. He'd never known the priest very well, but hadn't liked him simply because the younger man had been good friends with Ike: and Shinon had felt that somehow the dislike had always been reciprocal. For the first time in a while, he wondered what to say next. How are you? What've you been doing? Nothing seemed fitting, since he didn't really care and was almost certain that Rhys disapproved of his own current lifestyle.

Fortunately, the arrival of the bride saved him from having to think up anything meaningful. With a glance over at the beribboned young lady, Rhys said, "Excuse me," and moved off in that direction. Gatrie waved after him, and Shinon, feeling quite alone, wondered furiously where Rolf was.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

Rhys's emotions were clearly getting the better of him; he had to keep stopping to clear his throat during the ceremony, and Shinon could seen the tears standing in the priest's eyes. He sighed. This was a much longer ceremony than he'd counted on, and he stifled a yawn. Looking around, he didn't feel too bad about being bored; there were more than a few people looking uncomfortable. Except those damn male herons: both of them were staring rapturedly at Rhys and the soon-to-be-newlyweds, eyes dripping with sentimentality. Shinon found it most satisfying that both his hawk friend Janaff and the girl heron's husband were looking excruciatingly bored. As Shinon watched, the raven yawned cavernously, not bothering to hide it, and his wife surreptitiously whacked him in a most un-heron-like way. Shinon grinned, despite himself, suddenly liking them both. The two bird children had long since fallen asleep on their parents' laps; Shinon had to admit that they were no less cute than Greil's kids had been, even with those ridiculous miniature wings.

With a start, he realized that it was one of Greil's little kids who was up there getting hitched right now. That was kind of a sucker punch in the gonads, and Shinon wondered vaguely if Titania, sniffling happily amongst the Crimean knights, handkerchief up to catch the tears, was feeling anything similar.

Rhys was clearly making as much of a production out of this as he could, and Shinon had long since figured out that it was in the hope of giving Rolf, Ike, and Soren time to arrive. But it seemed as if the priest's efforts were in vain: none of the three were present in the crowd. (There had been a brief, surreptitious search of the base at the beginning of the wedding, to find Rolf, but clearly he had left.) And the audience was getting antsy.

Shinon watched as, with an almost indiscernible sigh of capitulation, Rhys flipped open a large book and finally started pronouncing the rites of marriage. "You come before the goddess Ashunera and these witnesses to proclaim your mutual love and devotion to one another. If there are any present who have reason and claim to oppose this union, speak now." His soft glance flickered amidst the crowd, and his clear voice hesitated only for a moment before continuing; but Shinon, accustomed to keen observation, had seen it, and turned. Rolf had finally arrived. By the goddess, he was tall now! Even though he was standing behind a pair of sub-humans, he was still clearly visible, face lean and bright, green hair cheerful in the sun.

"Then, if you have so chosen, declare your vows." As Boyd and Mist turned to one another, Shinon wondered at how calm Rolf was. The wedding suddenly seemed just wrong, as if it should be the younger brother standing before across from Mist (who, amazingly enough, was crying) instead of smiling and waiting in the wings. Shinon felt a sudden urge to jump up, run over to him, and shout, "Why aren't you up there?" What the hell was happening to him?

"You have stated your intentions, and your marriage is witnessed by the gathered. As a sign of your love, you may kiss-" Rhys jumped back in alarm and began laughing as Mist threw herself onto her new husband in a shower of kisses. The audience, startled by the fact that something had actually happened, burst into laughter and applause. Shinon, shocked, noticed that Rolf was among those who seemed the most excited, his cheeks shining red as he hooted something, clapping and laughing at Boyd's self-conscious grin. The female heron stood, holding her arms wide, and started singing: after a moment, her brothers joined her, and as the applause rolled on, Boyd swept his new bride into his arms and dashed into the base.

After the herons ended their song, and the general craziness died down, Shinon found himself rising and going straight to the back of the crowd. Rolf saw him, and his eyes lit up. "Uncle Shinon!" he cried, grinning wider than before, and flung himself into the older man's arms.

"You can just call me Shinon, you know," he said, startled and somewhat unnerved to hear that ridiculous title called out in such a deep voice. "You sure were late. How've you been?"

"Great. I've been great, how about you? Isn't this just a wonderful wedding?" Rolf was clearly overjoyed to see him, and babbled on happily. Shinon grinned: at least he still acted like a kid, even if he looked and sounded like an adult. "I can't believe all these people came, we were only expecting a few Royal Knights and maybe Ranulf, but almost everyone we invited showed up! I guess there's really nothing else going on this time of year."

"Almost everyone showed up," Shinon said.

The younger man looked at him, suddenly frowning. "Well, yeah, Ike and Soren didn't come in for the wedding ceremony. I wasn't going to, but..." Rolf shrugged. His hair was too long, much longer than his eldest brother's, and it reminded Shinon of that crazy swordsman Ike had trained with for a while. "I really just wanted to see the vows, mostly."

"It's always fun to watch Boyd get embarrassed by a girl," Shinon agreed, watching Rolf closely. After a moment he decided that it obviously didn't bother the young man that his brother had just married his former best friend. Rolf's eyes were clear, his expression simply happy.

Now Rolf grinned, and replied, "Especially if it's Mist. She looked so beautiful, right up to the point where she jumped on him and wrapped her legs around his waist. I can't believe she cried, though! After all those years making fun of me." He shook his head, chuckling. "I probably would have been just as embarrassed as my dumb brother." Then he leaned over to look past Shinon at the wedding party and bit his lip. "Hmm. Well, I told Ike I would find him when the ceremony was over, and take him into the base to find Mist before the final party starts. I suppose I should go do that now, before everyone here floods inside."

Shinon was struck momentarily speechless; finally, he asked, "Wait... so Ike is here?"

"Mmm-hmm," said Rolf, nodding. "He and Soren have been here for about half an hour. But they didn't want to interrupt the ceremony with a grand entrance. I mean, I could slip in easily enough, but General Ike, the hero of Tellius, walking in..."

Shinon made a face. "Oh, come on," Rolf said, forehead creasing. "You still don't like him? After everything he did for... well, for everyone?"

"I dunno," Shinon muttered, somewhat surprised to find Rolf knew of his dislike for their former commander. It wouldn't do any good to keep trying to think of Rolf as a kid anymore: he'd just end up embarrassing himself. "I can probably admit to respecting him without actually liking him personally. But you don't ever tell anyone I said that, _kapiche_?"

Rolf suddenly broke into a brilliant smile. "Yeah. Shinon, it's really good to see you again. I missed you. Nobody else around here is ever sarcastic." They embraced again, and Rolf turned back once more as he started walking towards the edge of the grove. "You staying?"

Shinon was tempted to answer that no, he'd only come for the romantic part, but finally he called back, "Yeah. I'll be sticking around until the cake runs out." Until the booze ran out, more likely, he thought to himself, trudging back to find Gatrie or someone else to distract himself with, but there was really no need to bring that up.

* * *

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

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* * *

Better stick to ale if he wanted to keep his wits about him, Shinon decided, and took a pull at an offered tankard. They'd spared no expense, that was for sure. It was an excellent brew, malty, bitter, and strong. From what it looked like, they'd gone all out with the food, too: but then, Mist had learned to finally cook, after all. Maybe she'd had something to do with that monstrosity of a wedding cake, or the gigantic... really? Shinon moved in for a closer look. It was a boar, all right: complete with the apple in its mouth. He wouldn't have been surprised if it were stuffed with something.

"Hey, Shinon!" said a familiar voice at his elbow, and he turned to see Janaff saluting him with a grin. "Still hanging in there, kid?"

"Yeah, yeah, you stupid old bird," Shinon answered, again feeling an unusual pleasure at getting to speak with the hawk again. He spent so much time alone nowadays that it shouldn't have been a surprise to relish conversation. It probably just went against his nature to like anybody. "Nice party, huh?"

"Definitely," Janaff agreed. "I hear tell the best man did most of the cooking. I'm looking forward to that."

Good news, indeed, Shinon had to admit. But when he went to say it, his voice failed. Two almost unfamiliar figures were heading straight toward the base. If Shinon hadn't already known who they were, he wouldn't have even recognized them.

Janaff, eyebrows raised at his sudden silence, followed his gaze and started. "Whoa! Ike's back! Wow, he's looking... older. Too bad Tibarn's not here, he's been trying to find Ike for months now."

Shinon couldn't tell from this far away, but silently he watched the two mismatched figures enter the base. "Well, wherever they've been, it's been rough," Janaff added. Even that much had been obvious to Shinon: their body language had been that of exhaustion, and Soren's robes had been utterly tattered at the hem. "Interesting, though, that they're back and no one else has noticed. I wonder if they saw the ceremony?"

Shaking his head, Shinon finally managed to say, "No, they didn't. Rolf said they'd just arrived and didn't want to interrupt it."

"Huh." Janaff squinted crossly at the base, as if trying to figure out a mystery. Then his expression took on a furtive cast, and he glanced sideways, looking sneaky. "I... I think I'll go find my pal Ulki. See what he can hear."

"Yeah," Shinon answered, distracted. After a moment, he realized what Janaff had meant, and drained his tankard, firmly setting it back on the table and moving off. Well, the hawks might have to sneak around to get information, but he knew his way around the old base. It was time to find some things out.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

An exultant scream of joy made Shinon pretty sure he was in the right room. The old dining hall had been outfitted as the banquet room for later (or if it started raining), but Mist and Boyd had obviously made off to a private room. "Ike! Brother! You stupid lughead - I thought you weren't going to come!"

A chuckle sounded down the corridor, and Shinon felt his knees turn to jelly. He leaned against the wall, feeling a little faint. The goddess... Ike sounded exactly like his father had when he laughed. "I'm sorry, Mist. We didn't hear the news until it was almost too late. We literally got here as fast as we could - had to call in a couple of favors from Aimee. Ugh."

Mist laughed at her brother's falsely disgusted tone. "I saw her here, too! Oh, Ike!"

Shinon felt himself getting more and more tempted to peek around the corner, but it wouldn't do. The door was cracked open just enough for him to hear, but the light from the hallway's sconces might give him away. Still... he could feel the sweat trickling down his back as Boyd started in on Ike, demanding to know news of Hatari, obviously dying to know where the two of them had been.

A surge of old hatred welled up inside him; it was all Shinon could do to quell it, and remain motionless. What a poser Ike was. The great General Ike, saving poor Crimea from the Mad King, and then abandoning the throne, so Elincia's rule fell into chaos. Then, after rescuing everyone yet again from Ashera, he insisted upon falling back into the shadows, instead of taking his rightful place as ruler of Crimea. The boy had had no guts whatsoever. Even when he'd had to come back out, to place the Mercenaries in the limelight again, Ike hadn't wanted to lead the army against Ashera. And now, after disappearing for so long, he was back... for what? To see his sister's wedding. The sister he'd abandoned without so much as a word of explanation.

"Ike... please just tell me," Mist said suddenly, her voice soft, and Shinon listened more carefully again. "Are you staying?"

There was a long silence. Then a sigh. "Mist..." came Ike's voice, and Shinon immediately knew the answer. Mist must have, too, because a half-sob wafted through the doorway. It may have just been the beer, but Shinon felt his hackles stand on edge, so to speak, and gritted his teeth in fury. The bastard wasn't staying! "Mist, we can't. Don't you understand?" As little as Shinon actually wanted Ike to return to the Greil Mercenaries, from what he'd heard they needed the help desperately.

"No!" she said, somewhat less upset and somewhat more enraged; Shinon approved. "No, I don't! I know you want to avoid... you know. Fame, and stuff... but why can't you just stay here and lead the group with Titania? It might be a time of peace, but we're still running all over helping people!"

"Yes!" Boyd suddenly butted in. Shinon had never much liked Boyd, except for the occasional amusement of watching him spar with Ike. But now, as Rolf's elder brother argued, Shinon realized how much he'd matured since the battle with Ashera. They all had. "Queen Elincia keeps asking us if we can possibly help with the situation in Daein, as well. Queen Micaiah and Sothe... they're having a hard time keeping the peace. Daeins don't forgive their royalty as easily as Crimeans, you know. They have a harder life."

"I know," said Ike slowly. "I know, Boyd. I really do. But... we can't go to Daein, either. That, I can't explain or even ask you to understand." There was a sigh. "Look, Mist... Boyd. I don't want you to be unhappy. We just came to wish both of you the best, to celebrate with you. And then we'll be gone."

There was another sob, and footsteps suddenly rushed towards the door. Adrenaline surged through Shinon: well, there wasn't much point in hiding. He braced himself outside the door, and when Mist crashed through it, she stumbled right into his arms.

"Whoa! It's the bride!" He attempted to make his words sound more slurred that they really were. "Hey, what's the matter? Get champagne on your veil?"

"No... no." Mist was already hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes, backing away from him. "Sorry, Shinon." Her lip trembled, and she whirled, dashing away down the hallway. He felt a momentary spasm of guilt: but even if he'd tried, he wouldn't have been able to comfort her.

Boyd emerged from the room, looking as if rage was brewing close to the surface. He glanced at Shinon, and for the first time the older man could remember, there was almost an element of misery to Boyd's features. "Shinon. What do you want?"

"Just to tell you your brother's here," Shinon answered, in as belligerent a voice as he could summon. "Little squirt showed up just as you two were kissing."

Boyd's face lightened in relief, if only momentarily. "Rolf? Ha. That's good." Shinon noticed that Ike and Soren were notably not coming out of the room; all was silent inside. As well it should be, he thought bitterly.

He realized further that he had absolutely no idea what he'd say if Ike came out of the room. It was taking all the effort he had not to go inside and take out his rage on Mist's older brother. She'd pretended so hard before the wedding that she didn't mind if her brother didn't come. "Oh, yes!" he'd heard her explaining to Titania, quite cheerfully. "He's got his own plan, you know." And that story Gatrie had told him, about her not being worried. What a charade. And all so the great Ike could maintain his image of being worthy.

"I'm gonna go..." Boyd suddenly said, awkwardly, and jabbed a thumb in the direction Mist ran. "We have to, you know. Dance and socialize and stuff. Would you tell Rolf to come find me, Shinon? I want to ask him something."

"Yeah, whatever," Shinon said, watching him go. The tense silence continued from inside the room, and he merely shook his head, turning back to go outside. Perhaps Janaff's other hawk friend would have heard Mist's conversation with her brother, too. Selfish bastard deserved to be given away by a friend, as well as someone who didn't like him.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

Moodily, Shinon returned to the drinks table outside, grabbing a bottle of mead. Going over to a fence at the edge of the yard, away from most of the other guests, he leaned over it, tossing back half of the bottle. "Are you around, Greil?" he muttered. "Watching your son hack up the rest of the family?"

There was no answer from the still woods leading to the commander's gravesite, and Shinon turned away, bitterly regretting having left the Mercenaries. He wondered if Titania would take him back, after the falling-out they'd had. Perhaps if he made it clear that he no longer gave a damn about sub-humans in their ranks...

The sight of Rolf's tousled head amongst the crowd reminded him of his promise to Boyd, and he tilted the bottle up again, setting out across the yard. "Rolf!" Shinon called, and the younger man's head turned. "Boyd wants to talk to you, when he gets back out here."

"Well, good. I want to talk to him, too!" Rolf said, grinning. His cheeks were flushed, probably with more than just excitement, too. Goddess, Shinon thought faintly, was he old enough to be drinking? "Did he ever find Ike and Soren? I was supposed to go do that, but then Oscar distracted me..."

"Yeah," Shinon said, feeling the word stick in his throat. "Yeah... he and Mist were talking to them before I got there."

Finally, Rolf made the face: the half-embarrassed, uncomfortable awkward face that Shinon had been waiting for since first seeing him. "Huh. Um… is he… are they staying, do you know?"

"No," Shinon answered flatly.

There was a short silence, and Rolf finally hid his face by burying it in a stein; when he reappeared, Shinon shrewdly noted that the younger man had carefully rearranged his features to appear neutral. Clearly he had no desire to start a conversation on that topic. "Hmm. Okay. Uh, Shinon!" Switching directions hastily, Rolf continued, "Want to see the new bow I got from a band of traders last week? It's kind of like a double bow, but with a way better range…"

With a mental sigh, Shinon allowed Rolf to lead him into the new conversation, and over to the weapons pile (snagging a new drink on the way). Generally weapons weren't permitted within the crowd a wedding ceremony, but since the recent upheaval near the Gallian border, most Crimeans had started carrying items to protect themselves with, so many of the wedding guests had been asked to dump their items onto a pile near the fort. Shinon's own favorite brave bow was at the bottom of the pile somewhere, probably smashed underneath someone's stupid axe, or a bag of tomes.

There was just enough drink in him, Shinon reflected, only half paying attention to Rolf's genuinely excited description of the bow, to start enjoying this party, despite himself. The crowd was moving back and forth in that pleasant way that dozens of people sometimes had, with an ebb and flow equivalent to waves on a seashore. You couldn't concentrate on one person long enough to annoy them (or be annoyed by them), so everyone had a good time except the bride and groom, who were forced to hang out with one another the entire time.

Speaking of whom… Mist and Boyd had finally reappeared from the fort, her face carefully touched to hide any trace of her tears. Shinon noticed that Boyd started when spoken to for the first time, but took a deep breath and did his best to look immensely happy. Everyone seemed to be getting happier, in fact, with the presence of the bride and groom.

"So, what do you think of it?" Rolf asked, drawing Shinon's attention back to the bow. He gazed at Rolf's face, grinning wildly even as his eyes were soft with love for the simple weapon.

"It's great, kid. Probably the bes' buy you coulda made," Shinon assured him, to Rolf's intense delight. "If you can even draw it, that is."

Rolf had enough kid left in him to make a face and put his hands on his hips, scoffing, "Of course I can draw it! You should come by some time and watch me at target practice. I'm as good as you ever were!"

Shinon laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder and shook his head solemnly. "Never in your life, kid."

Rolf laughed obligingly. "Okay. Fine, you're still the master. Still, you should come by some time." As he continued talking about the Greil Mercenaries, Shinon blinked: why had Rolf's face suddenly gone double? Oh, no. This mead must be stronger than he'd anticipated! _Great_, he thought distantly, feeling a little ill. _I hope I don't blurt out anything stupid, like that time with Ike… ugh._

Resolving to keep his mouth shut for a while longer, Shinon merely grinned and nodded encouragingly at Rolf, barely noticing that the younger man had devolved into raptures about his eldest brother going back to the Royal Knights. Perhaps it was time to ditch this party for a more peaceful venue… one involving less people he could embarrass himself in front of.

His eye was caught again by Mist, but this time because she was waving her arms for attention. Even Rolf stopped speaking , looking over at his new sister-in-law. Oh, no: she and Boyd were standing by the wedding cake, grinning like idiots. It must be time for the traditional smash-cake-in-each-other's-faces event. Shinon felt nauseated just thinking about it: parties were fun, but mooshy-gooshy emotional things like this were jus stupid.

Rolf seemed excited about it, however: "Oh, no," he laughed. "Let's go see this, Shinon."

"You go 'head," Shinon said, careful to sound nonchalant. "I'll be over, I gotta do something first." Rolf gave him no more than a mildly curious glance, but apparently assumed Shinon meant something private in the bushes, and trotted off toward the happy couple.

Shinon turned immediately and strode off toward the woods, feeling more unsteady than ever. Recklessly, he took another swig from the bottle, knowing he would need it before the night was out.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

Greil's grave was peaceful as ever; someone, probably Mist, had planted some kind of perennial shrubs on either side of the stone that bore his name, and both were brightly in bloom. Feeling a brief, uncharacteristic surge of despair, Shinon slumped to his knees before the grave. There was nothing to say; he wasn't even sure if he believed in an afterlife, and beyond that, Shinon wasn't sure if Greil had ever known just how deep the archer's respect for him ran. It wasn't his way to ask, and it certainly wasn't Shinon's way to tell.

The moments passed by as he stared at the tombstone, turning into minutes. It was a testament to how much he'd actually had to drink that Shinon didn't, at first, notice the footsteps behind him. It was only when someone muttered, "Shit," that he whirled, wishing he had a bow.

It was Ike.

Shinon immediately bristled; but when he opened his mouth to sneer, the other man beat him to it. "Yeah, I know. What the hell am I doing here, I've been gone for too long, the great Ikey-wikey has returned to suck his glory. I know. I friggin' know, Shinon."

The bitterness in Ike's voice—and the closed, angry look on his face—was enough to keep Shinon from saying anything for the moment. He closed his mouth, opened it again, and finally just looked at Ike; this was something new. He wasn't sure how to deal with Ike when his criticisms weren't impassively accepted; the boy had never talked back to him like this, and he himself wasn't exactly at the top of his game right now.

The younger man was staring at his father's tombstone; now his expression looked like he was closer to tears than anything else. "I don't want to leave again," he said quietly. "I don't know why the hell you'd care, Shinon, but the last thing I want to do is leave. It's just… we can't stay. Soren can't stay, I know that much. And I'm not my father. No one understands."

Shinon snorted. "I sure as hell don't."

Ike looked up, glaring. "Well, I wouldn't expect you to. What the hell _do_ you understand? Certainly not my father. You might as well have left Crimea, too, from the way you abandoned the Mercenaries. But that's okay. Because if you can't have command of the Greil Mercenaries, why should you help them?"

It took a moment for Ike's meaning to sink in, and a flush of outrage shot through Shinon. "That's not true!" he protested furiously, but floundered to find an alternate explanation. It _wasn't_ true, but then he couldn't think of what was.

"Then what is?" Ike demanded. "I get that you never liked me because I wasn't as good as my father. And me leaving just proves further how unworthy I was. But you're no better. How do you think Rolf felt when you left? Or Gatrie? They trusted you, and how did you repay them? At least I've left to protect someone, even if no one knows it. You do whatever's good for you."

This conversation was getting entirely too deep (and going a little too fast) for Shinon, and he gaped a little, trying to think. Finally, he rose, as dignified as was possible in the situation. "I don't know what's your problem, kid, but stop taking it out on me. I have no idea what you're talking about anymore, and what's more, I don't care. I'm going back to get drunk until I pass out on a table somewhere. You have fun angsting over your own problems. Maybe your dad can help, seeing as how you listen to him better now that he's dead."

As if in slow motion, Shinon saw Ike's fist tighten at his side; but as he moved to brush past the younger man, Ike simply closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, face incomparably furious but controlled. Good, who cared if he was pissed off; Shinon had had enough of this abuse.

He was almost into the woods, and had just recovered from stumbling over a rock, when Ike's voice rang out from behind him, as steely as his father's had ever been. "Shinon. Stop." He paused, and waited just long enough before turning.

Ike's face was indescribable: proud, angry, and cool… but somehow full of _need_. Shinon felt a sudden, unnatural wish to achieve reconciliation; immediately he recoiled, but Ike's next words affected him. "You can't understand why I must leave. I don't ask you or anyone else to do so. But… can't you help protect Rolf and the others while I'm gone? They need you more than you think. I won't offend you by saying my father would have wanted you to, but can you raise yourself up for one moment and be better than me?"

It was almost a contemptuously pandering speech, and even half-intoxicated Shinon knew Ike was attempting to play up his own worthlessness, to make him more amenable. But somehow it worked, and grudgingly he had to admit that leaving the Mercenaries had been one of his less admirable life decisions.

After a moment, he shrugged. "Yeah. If you can't stick around, I might as well. Just…" A sudden surge of affection for Rolf struck him, and he pointed at Ike. "Tell them why you're leaving, ya little bastard. Your sister and the others. If I don't understand why I sure as hell can't explain it to them, and they deserve to know."

Ike hesitated for a moment, but then gave an infinitesimal nod. "All right."

And that was it. The younger man turned away, dropping to the ground in a swirl of cape, and Shinon rolled his eyes to turn away. Well, Ike might or he might not give up his secrets to the others; but Shinon knew that he himself would hold up his own end of the bargain.

Walking back through the trees, he caught a glimpse of a purple cloak, and the sunset's fading light shone eerily from a pair of red eyes, coolly regarding him. Soren, waiting for Ike at the edge of the path.

Ignoring the mage, Shinon walked on; there was literally nothing the two of them had to say to one another.

With a jolt he realized what Ike must have meant: for some reason it was Soren he was "protecting", by gallivanting off into the desert. Or perhaps he was protecting someone _from_ Soren. Whatever the case, it must involve the strange boy that haunted Ike's every step.

Shinon shuddered. Well, the two of them were good for one another, and the further away from Crimea they were, the happier he would be.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

He returned to the party just in time; the bride and groom had already cut their slices of cake, had fed them to one another, and were proceeding to wipe the cake off their faces, everyone laughing maniacally and offering toasts to their future happiness. Gazing around, a sudden and rather unexpected feeling swelled his heart: hopefulness.

Perhaps it would work. He could rejoin the Mercenaries, and without Ike there it wouldn't matter who led the company. Titania was respectable enough, and she'd adored Greil as much as he, Shinon, had. It wouldn't be so bad.

Rolf ran up to him one last time, grinning madly. "That was so great, wasn't it?"

Shinon grinned; he might as well have been there the whole time. "Yeah, yeah. It was adorable. Look, I'm thinking of coming back to the Mercen-"

He didn't even manage to finish the word before Rolf yelped in glee and threw his arms around him. "_Really_? Oh, Uncle Shinon, that's great!"

"Ugh, don't call me that, Rolf!"

"Okay, okay," Rolf laughed. "I'm just so excited! What changed your mind?"

Shinon looked over at Mist and Boyd again. She looked so happy that he almost hoped Ike _would_ tell her why she was leaving. The sunset had finally faded, and the torches set up around the party-site illumined everyone's faces, laguz and beorc alike, in a way that made them all look the same. Happy.

"I don't know," he said, somewhat truthfully. "I guess I figured you guys might need me eventually."


	5. Flutter, flutter, flutter

I stole Nickel Creek,

But my endings always suck.

I love Naesala.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

13. Flutter, flutter, flutter

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

It wasn't that her husband and her son weren't close. Quite the contrary, actually. Maedhros had inherited the best of both parents, and as a consequence could always be counted upon as the person to bring his father out of a dark sulk, usually with nothing more than irresistible good humor.

But Leanne knew, just as she had known growing up, the hidden parts of Naesala's heart: and she knew that their daughter was almost dearer to him than she herself was. From their early childhood, both children had shown fiercely unique personalities, and Lillia, the perfect image of her mother, had never been anything less than the daughter of a raven.

Leanne sighed, watching her grown son and his hawk friend roughhousing above the tower rooms. The game, apparently, was to pretend that one didn't have wings, and to use the turrets as a miniature battlefield, armed with only fists and boots. She knew they wouldn't seriously hurt themselves, but she was keeping any eye on them anyway, only half-concentrating on the blanket she was embroidering for a beorc friend's new child. Young laguz men were always to excited to prove that they were no longer boys, and as a consequence occasionally forgot that they couldn't exactly manage everything their elders could.

The corner of her eye, though, was concentrated on the far eastern horizon. Lillia had stubbornly locked herself into her room, maintaining that until her father returned home from the Begnion capital, she wasn't coming out. Just the thought of it made Leanne flush with frustration: one of Naesala's admirable qualities was his tenacious courage, and Lillia had certainly inherited that. Unfortunately, she'd also inherited his most frustrating personality facet, a tendency to stubbornly conceal his motives. Emotions were much easier: Leanne could read her daughter's _feelings_ quite as well as her husband's. But sometimes she found herself unconsciously siding with Maedhros in verbal arguments, simply because she could understand his logic so much more clearly, his motives having either been explained or being explicitly obvious.

That, more than anything, frustrated her. It didn't bother her that she was closer with their son, and that Naesala was closer with their daughter; after all, when they were children she and her brother had immediately chosen favorites, when faced with looking up to both the king of hawks and the king of ravens. It was simply a matter of personality, so far as that went.

No, it was that Leanne felt herself becoming increasingly distant from her daughter. Lillia had always been more reserved and independent than Maedhros, whose cheerful placidity reminded her of no one so much as Tibarn's retainer Janaff. But this recent fight… Leanne wasn't sure who had been more upset, herself or Naesala, and the thought of him returning with the wrong news filled her heart with trepidation. Her worst nightmares were always those where her family fell apart, and while she knew that Lillia would eventually forgive her, if things didn't go well… the fear still lurked in the back of her mind.

Lillia had all but marched into their bedroom two mornings before, barely looking at them before cheerfully announcing, "I want to learn seid magic, Mama."

Leanne had merely stared at her daughter for a moment, feeling more dumbfounded that she could ever recall. She tightened both hands, her right on a damp, bloodstained rag, and her left on Naesala's bare shoulder. They were both sitting near the window, as she sponged blood from his back: a healthy batch of wounds, left by brigands seeking to annoy the bird tribes as their most well-known diplomat made his way back from Crimea.

"All right, Lillia," she finally managed to answer, knowing that she sounded exasperated, and felt, more than heard, her husband chuckling. "May I ask what made you decide right now is the right time?" They had discussed seid magic before briefly, but Lillia had always said that she didn't know if she could. Apparently she had changed her mind.

Lillia merely looked at her, glance flickering to the cloth. "To help," was her simple answer.

Leanne felt a chill slide down her back. Unrest had spread across Crimea for probably the third time in as many decades, and Queen Elincia had once more asked any diplomats from other countries to help intervene in minor land disputes, and to halt widespread political chaos: the Royal Knights could only suppress such things for so long, and by so many methods. Unfortunately, while Crimea was far more tolerant of laguz than either Begnion or Daein (and in fact were treated quite regally by the nobility), laguz diplomats were not always made perfectly welcome by the general population. This wasn't the first time Leanne had doctored Naesala, after he'd been attacked while sleeping somewhere in between Melior and Serenes. She knew it wouldn't be the last.

She swallowed down her fear and calmly said, "All right. I'll contact your uncle Reyson, and the two of us can begin instructing you soon. You're right: it's time we passed on our knowledge to you, Lillia."

"No," was the immediate answer. "I want to go to Mainal Cathedral and study seid magic there."

Leanne almost choked in surprise; she raised a hand to her mouth, to cover the gasp that would certainly otherwise have escaped.

Words completely failed her. Her daughter… wanted to go to Mainal Cathedral… to study seid magic amongst the beorc there. Not only did the idea rankle every nerve she'd inherited from heron ancestors, but the thought of a young female heron, alone amongst the Begnion nobility… "No," she said finally, and heard her voice shake as she continued. "No, Lillia. That's impossible."

"Why?" asked her daughter stubbornly, brows furrowed. That was one thing about Lillia: she never bothered to argue, since her motives were always either concealed, or so obvious that they didn't even need explanation.

Leanne, completely unable to come up with an intelligible response, felt a sublime relief as her husband got up, reaching out to take their daughter by the hand. "Lillia… you know why. We're not treating you like a child when we say that Sienne is not a safe place for laguz. I've travelled there many times since the end of the Goddess's War, trust me."

"I know that, Papa," answered Lillia calmly, green eyes clear and full of hope. "You can send someone with me if you want. For protection."

Naesala drew a hand across his eyes briefly, and said, "Lillia, _I_ could go with you, if it came down to that. I think the point I'm trying to make is, why Mainal Cathedral? Did you hear your mother? She and your uncle can instruct you better than any scholar, especially a beorc who has never actually _seen_ it in practice." Leanne heard the pang in his voice at mentioning Reyson; she herself was annoyed with her brother, who had seen fit to argue passionately over a beorc matter with her much more knowledgeable husband, and had stormed off in a huff. Naesala, of course, pretended to be indignant, but Leanne knew better.

Still Lillia was perfectly at ease. "I know. Mama, you and Uncle Reyson can teach me the beginning seid magic. I already know basically how it works. But I want to study like the beorc do. I want to be a priest, too."

There was an absolute silence; finally, Naesala replied, somewhat faintly, "You _what_?" Then, in a tone of complete outrage, "_Lillia!_"

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

That had been the beginning of the argument. One way that Lillia most resembled her mother was in her refusal to change her mind. Leanne was torn between nostalgia (the memories of Reyson trying to argue her out of marrying Naesala) and deep bitterness, as she watched her husband try to keep his emotions in check. Naesala had what she considered to be a slow burn—it took him a long time to get genuinely outraged—but when he did finally lose control, it was complete. Once or twice she'd watched, highly entertained, as Maedhros provoked his father into a shouting match for the sole purpose of getting him into a better mood. Normally, it worked: once Maedhros started laughing, his exasperated, aggravated father would have no choice but to join in.

But this fight had ended in black, flat glares from both parties involved. Lillia rarely played one parent off the other to get what she wanted—neither of their children were petty or selfish, though both were certainly cunning—but this was the first time she had attempted to do so and had failed. Naesala had entirely sided with Leanne (if for slightly different reasons), and Lillia had delivered an ultimatum: either she went to Mainal Cathedral and got her way, or she didn't study seid magic at all.

What most upset Naesala, Leanne thought, was Lillia's refusal to understand the danger of staying amongst Begnion beorc alone. Both children had been born after the Goddess's War; but while Maedhros, with dozens of bird and beast laguz pals, had picked up the common sense of keeping to oneself, Lillia had been drawn like a moth to the flame. The more Leanne had explained under what circumstances beorc and laguz could and couldn't get along, the more Lillia's brows drew together, and her mother knew that she was thinking of ways to… to what? To be _involved_, somehow, with beorc matters.

Leanne had never been bitter about the Serenes Massacre. She remembered it, of course: but having been so young, she had forgiven much more quickly than her husband. Naesala steadfastly refused to talk about such matters with his delicate daughter; and somehow, even now, when her father came home literally bloodied from diplomatic journeys to beorc countries, Lillia seemed to have some sort of hidden obsession with becoming part of the beorc world.

A sudden flash of black, crashing into the courtyard before her, seemed to stop time for a moment. But a distressed "Ackgh!" indicated that it was simply her half-grown son, who had just lost the game. Leanne leapt up, the embroidery forgotten as she flew to her son's side. But he was unhurt, already rising to dust off his clothes, face red. "Sorry, Mama. I'm fine." Then, immediately and glibly he shouted, "Damn!" Above, his friend was laughing uproariously, evidently feeling quite victoriously unconcerned.

Leanne was torn between laughing with the boy and yelling at her son for scaring her so: but then, if she hadn't been lost in thought, she probably wouldn't have been worried. "It's all right." He seemed to hardly hear her, briefly smiling and squeezing her hand, before leaping upwards again. The downdraft from his powerful wings made her head reel for a moment, and Leanne suddenly had an image in her head of Naesala, the first time he'd ever helped her fly.

Abruptly she knew, and looked to the east: a form was beginning to take shape, and long before she recognized her husband's transformed shape, the young hawk shouted from above, eyes much keener than her own. "Your dad's home, Maedhros!"

Leanne didn't look up, just gathered up her embroidery and went inside: but she knew her son's eyes were on her. The argument about Lillia's future was about to be decided, and Leanne wasn't entirely sure she was ready for it.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

She knew before Naesala even spoke what the verdict would be. Quietly slipping through a back door, he'd managed to avoid her for several minutes, and she'd discovered him mindlessly paging through old documents, sent by the Daein embassy. Leanne paused for a moment to reflect, relieved, that at least he appeared totally unharmed. All things considered, Sienne was probably safer than Melior: but Leanne knew better than to think there weren't those in Begnion who still harbored a grudge against Kilvas. His body language said as much.

But most telling of all, he started when she spoke, and hesitated before returning her embrace, almost guiltily kissing her. "I know," she said, feeling glum. "You've decided to let her go."

It was amazing how much she felt her heart break when he finally nodded. Even though she'd known, the confirmation of it was almost devastating. "Leanne, I know you don't want this. You thought maybe teaching Lillia seid magic with your brother could maybe… repair relations in that direction." Now it was her turn to start, and Naesala smiled wryly. "Come on. I know I can't read people like you, but give me some credit."

"Yes," she said shortly, feeling a single, puerile tear slip down her face.

She'd expected him to plead his case at this point, explain all the logical reasons why it wasn't a bad idea; but suddenly he was still, standing unmoving and gazing at her. Finally, he dropped his gaze and said, "Leanne, you had a dream as a child, right? Something you really wanted, but knew it was pretty unlikely?"

The comment, so unanticipated, made her flush. "Of course. Every child does." Leanne hadn't even thought of anything before her re-awakening in a long time, and was unexpectedly embarrassing.

"And yours was…?" he persisted, eyes on her now.

Leanne glared at him. "You're going to make me say it out loud? You know perfectly well what I wanted, when I was a child."

He chuckled, evidently satisfied. "All right. Well, you and your brother both got your wishes, to all effects and purposes. You've left off being like your brother Rafiel, and Reyson is able to run all over the place leading the people with Tibarn. Not exactly what you had in mind, I'm sure, but I hope I and your children are small compensation for not actually becoming a raven yourself."

Her cheeks must be burning a hole in the air, she thought vaguely, and asked softly, feeling an irritation grow, "Naesala, can I ask what your point is? Because I ended up with what I wanted, I should let our daughter go off and betray her heritage?"

He finally looked uncomfortable, and held out a hand. After a moment, she sighed and took it. "No. Well, yes, but not really. I don't want to sound self-pitying at all, but I know what it's like to end up with a life you never asked for."

"You didn't want to be king of your country?" she asked, and immediately wished she hadn't. Naesala didn't smile, didn't frown, didn't even flinch. She knew he'd gotten over the literal pain of the blood contract, but every word of it would remain etched into his heart.

"Well, every fledgling raven wanted to be king. Of course. And when the throne isn't guarded by an entailment, it's always a legitimate possibility, too. But…" He sighed. "Well, you know. It was sort of a surprise, how horrific the choice between your people and another becomes. I'd never thought I would care, that I would always be perfectly happy making the right choice for the raven clan. Being king seems pretty easy, even to those of us who think we know better."

She understood. And while she'd known all along how it tore at him inside, all the other laguz (and any beorc who knew the situation) had assumed that, as a raven, Naesala hadn't even been bothered by choosing the lives of his citizens over those of Phoenicis. No one but her had ever seen him look back. "I know. But Naesala, Lillia will never have to make that choice."

"How do you know? You and I might be killed tonight, and she may end up taking my place in the Laguz Alliance with her brother." Naesala's voice was cold, and she could tell he was thinking of the other day. "Worse yet, she might have this dream for years, and when she's finally independent of us, it could be too late. The Begnions might be anti-laguz again, and without an influential word they might deny her the dream of becoming a priest."

"Why does she need to be a priest?" Leanne demanded, suddenly feeling all the indignance of her repressed heron ancestors pop up. A memory of the wolf queen Nailah surfaced in her mind, defending Rafiel's complacency and gentleness, and she fiercely pushed it away. "Naesala, she can go learn seid magic from the Begnions. From the Crimeans, for all I care. And if she comes home not knowing as much as I, then I'll help her. But why are you supporting her in this ridiculous notion of staves and holy chants when she can already do so much just as herself?"

"For one, because even seid can't teach you the magic of light tomes," Naesala reminded her, voice heavy with irony. "I think Lillia's got too much of me in her, and she's looking for a way to actively fight." Leanne felt a tug of horror as he continued, "Yes, I know it seems terrible to you. And it would bother me too, if I didn't think it was a good idea, at least pragmatically. Things are backsliding, as they always do in a time of peace. People are getting just a bit too lax, and before long laguz slavery is going to be a good source of income again."

A sickness settled in Leanne's stomach, and she looked up at him in despair. "We can't send her to the Begnion capital alone, if that's the case."

"Well, how stupid do you think I am?" Naesala exclaimed, and she was so surprised that she finally giggled, just a little hysterically. He smiled, gently. "Leanne, I've looked into that. Reyson might be angry with me, but Tibarn's not. I talked to him, and he's agreed to send someone, be it one of the ravens or the hawks, with Lillia. Probably one of his older men, someone who's bored of living in Serenes but knows better than to let down his guard."

Leanne opened her mouth, and closed it again. There was really nothing else to say, after all. She put her face against Naesala's shoulder, and sighed, refusing to cry. "All right. Just… just promise me that she'll be all right."

He pulled her to him tightly. "She'll be all right."

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

It was another two weeks before preparations were complete, and before the necessary paperwork was all in place. The Begnion Cathedral had never accepted a laguz for training as a priest before, and Leanne had never heard the country humming as loudly as when they finally shrugged and agreed. Naesala had commented that the Begnions were madder about this than she herself was, but that it wasn't entirely prudent for them to refuse such a lucrative opportunity, no matter how the current senators felt about the laguz. "They can make history by letting Lillia become a priest," he'd explained, grinning widely. "And as of right now their knowledge of seid magic is strictly intellectual, most of them having never seen a heron do healing except when they were fighting us. So by helping her learn it, they can watch and see if their teachings are actually _right_."

Leanne had shaken her head mutely to most of this. She always felt a sinking in her stomach as he left once more to discuss things with an important someone, somewhere, the feeling that he wouldn't return a nagging sense in the back of her mind.

She'd sent the news to Reyson, attempting to make it as clear as possible that she herself hadn't entirely sanctioned Lillia's actions, and he'd finally answered, rather coolly. Still, she'd clearly sensed that he understood, and the fact that he was arriving soon was more than enough for her to forgive him.

Today was Lillia's departure for Begnion: Naesala had, somehow without even speaking to her about it, satisfied Leanne's continued disapproval of the whole situation by refusing to accompany his daughter to the Begnion capital. "I'll go tomorrow," he'd told her, in the secret darkness of their bedroom the night before. "But she'll never know. I don't want her to think I'll be there protecting her, but I will."

Somehow that meant less, though, than the fact that he was refusing to go today. Surprisingly enough, Lillia had actually become so upset at this that she had burst into tears, startling her mother even more by stamping her foot and imploring Naesala to go. It had obviously been due to his own stubbornness that he'd resisted. Lillia clearly wanted her father's approval more than anything else: Leanne was simultaneously torn between a mother's instinct to make her children happy, and her own implicit distaste for the whole affair.

Now the two of them stood together, alone on the parapet, light and dark silhouettes looking nearly the same when framed against the morning sun. Off to the side, one of Tibarn's hawk soldiers stood side by side with a raven Leanne recognized from back during the Mad King's War, someone Naesala trusted unhesitatingly. The two of them would be Lillia's protectors as she studied, and, little beknownst to the young heron, her father's eyes and ears. Leanne smiled to herself at the thought, feeling a wistful tear prick the corner of her eye; despite herself, she found that she was wishing Reyson would make it in time to see off his niece. Of course, he might still be angry with her, and might refuse to speak to her husband entirely, but it would still be worth something.

Naesala was saying something to his daughter, and she suddenly giggled, sniffling and throwing her arms around him. As she pulled away, Leanne vaguely heard, "… you can't sing, Daddy…"

"…what your mother's for," was the answer, barely audible in his deep tones, and both of them laughed softly. Then Leanne had a fleeting impression of white, ruffling feathers flying towards her, and her daughter's arms were suddenly wrapped around her.

Startled beyond words, all she could do was return Lillia's embrace. "I'm sorry," her daughter was saying, sniffling, thin arms too tight. "I'm so sorry, Mama. Please forgive me: I just _have_ to go."

Something in her broke, and Leanne abruptly wasn't angry any longer. She couldn't think of a thing to say, and merely rubbed her daughter's back. It didn't seem to matter whether or not Lillia trained in seid magic somewhere else: maybe it was just her own foolish pride that had upset her about that. And what was wrong with learning beorc magic? Her daughter would probably become one of the wisest laguz ever to live.

Finally she found her voice. "It's all right, Lillia." Her own voice sounded wry, too unaffected, and she swallowed, before adding, "Really. It's all right. I'll miss you, darling."

Lillia stepped back a little, and Leanne smiled at her, finally feeling her tears let loose. Loose golden curls streamed from her daughter's temples, waving in the light breeze, but with the sun behind her she had her father's dark face. "Thank you, Mama."

She leaned forward to give her daughter one last kiss, then pushed her lightly in the direction of the two older laguz. "Go on. Catch your dream, before it slips away from you."

The next few minutes were a confused welter of watching her daughter transform with the others, fluttering upwards in a whirl of white, feeling Naesala slip an arm around her, trying not to cry, and helplessly laughing as her son followed after them, hooting and calling names at his 'little' sister. Finally they were gone, and she turned to her husband, unable to keep from crying. "She'll be fine. I'll go tomorrow," was all he said, the sun warming them both.

At last she managed to look up, and suddenly noticed another figure, one she hadn't seen, stepping out from a doorway. "Reyson!" She detached herself from Naesala with some effort, and threw herself into her brother's arms. "Reyson, you just missed—they left a moment ago—"

"I've been here," he said, interrupting her. "I came a while ago… not really to see Lillia off, though. I…" She moved away, to see him biting his lip, trying not to smile. "Leanne, I don't want to be angry with anyone. Ever again. It's a terrible thing, to fear seeing my niece because I'm upset with her parents, the two people who should matter the most to me."

Leanne only looked at Naesala for a moment, but her glance saw him stricken. "Reyson…"

"I don't know how she convinced you to let her do it," her brother continued stubbornly, "but I think it will be good. Really. Once I wrapped my head around it, the idea seemed better and better. The Begnions will be happy to train her, and they'll get used to seeing laguz right in the Cathedral. And if—when she stays safe, all the laguz will be much more at ease."

All of this flew quite over Leanne's head; she'd stopped paying attention after he'd said he wanted to have the fight over and done with. "Yes—yes, you're right. All will be well."

* * *

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

* * *

She ushered her son inside with Reyson; the two of them seemed only too happy to act like idiots, immediately starting up a conversation about potentially going somewhere or other with Janaff and Ulki, attacking a bandit stronghold or something similarly testosterone-fueled. Leanne held her husband back a moment longer. "Naesala… wait a moment. I know you're eager to talk to Reyson…"

He smiled, eyes clear. "Yes, but it seems that can wait. What is it?"

"What was that I heard about singing?" she asked curiously.

Naesala flushed, contriving somehow to look simultaneously bashful and proud. "Well… she needed to know that even if I didn't go with her, you and I still loved her. That when she took off to make her own life, we would be the solid ground, if she needed to come back down… and the harmony to any songs she sings when she's lonely."

Leanne felt the tears prick again, entirely touched. She swallowed, and said, feeling her voice crack, "Well, she was right, wasn't she? You can't sing. Though I suppose I'm not the solid ground you meant."

He bent to kiss her lightly, and took her hand. "For me, maybe: but no, not for Lillia. Don't worry. Let's find breakfast."


	6. Tears

Briefly: this is set quite a while after _Radiant Dawn_ and was initially going to begin with Rhys dying... because like it or not, all beorc are someday going to get old.

Yeah. But that initial fic literally sent me into a crying fit, so I started again. In any case, this is a romantic, sad, wholly self-gratifying fic because I'm feeling _super crappy_ this week. Beware of extreme quicksand-like squishiness.

Edit: have deleted the standalone because it just makes more sense to add the following chapter to the 100 challenge.

* * *

~~ Songbirds ~~

* * *

Titania couldn't remember having felt this helpless in years. The advantage of the Mercenaries treating one another like family was that, when something bad did happen, no one had to share the grief alone. If someone's sister took ill, or their parents died in a far-off place, or even if hailstones killed their favorite horse... that person could always find a shoulder to cry on.

But sometimes a sympathetic ear wasn't enough. Titania looked down at the man she'd married fifteen years ago, stroking his cheek with a gentle hand. It was agony to just sit by and watch when he suffered—which nowadays was more often than not. She wanted to cry, scream, bash the living daylights out of the guilty party with the biggest axe she could find. Unfortunately, with chronic illness there was never a bad guy to chase down, no one at all to blame.

She looked out the window. A couple of the bird laguz were outside, making a detour visit on their way into Gallia. Titania felt a momentary stab of jealousy at their youthful antics. They were probably both well into their triple digits, but both birds were rolling and tumbling in the sunshine with Mist's sons, all of them laughing like crazy.

The sounds carried perfectly through the open window. Titania could hear Boyd, yelling something. The insects chirped in the fields; a light breeze wafted the mingled scent of fresh-cut hay and perfect summer sunshine across the room.

She felt tears stand in her eyes, and fiercely brushed them away. Oh, sure. She could go talk to Mist... or Gatrie... or Rolf... or any of the others. Any one of them would boil her a cup of tea, listen patiently as she sobbed, or give her fumbling but earnest advice.

Titania didn't want that. She wanted to tell _Rhys _how she felt.

That was the worst part. Not even the watching and waiting, or even knowing that the end may or may not be near: no, the most agonizing part was that the only person who would usually understand, who wouldn't even have to say a word... he was the one she couldn't talk to this time. She suddenly felt the acute terror of a person lost in a foreign land, with no one who knew her language.

There was a soft knocking at the door, and Titania turned to see Mist peeking in her head. She didn't say a word; just smiled tentatively. Titania smiled in return, and beckoned her in.

"How are you?" Mist asked softly.

Titania looked away, wanting to just lie down and cry. "I'm fine, thank you, Mist. It sounds like your boys are having fun."

Mist snorted, crossing her arms. Titania noticed a smear of flour down one side of the young woman's button nose: it must be baking day. "Those idiots... they wrecked the new fence Gatrie was putting up. And then Boyd. He's out there yelling at them for doing stupid stuff he's probably done a hundred times."

"I could be wrong," Titania said wryly, "but isn't that what fathers are supposed to do? Try in vain to keep their kids from doing the same stupid things they did?"

Mist giggled. Titania sometimes found it hard to believe that this slender mother was the same child she'd held in her arms. Now wasn't one of those times, though. "I guess. My dad said that he'd done lots of the same stuff Ike did." Suddenly changing gears, Mist said seriously, "I mean it, though. Are you all right?"

Her blue eyes rested now on Rhys's peacefully sleeping face, and the gaze was not lost on Titania. She took a deep breath. "No. Yes. I..." She sighed. "I don't have to explain. You know what it would be like."

"Yes," Mist said after a moment, with a tinge of regret in her voice. "Yes, I've come close before." They were both silent for a moment; Titania remembered the first time Boyd had almost been killed in a fight. These things happened more often than anyone expected. "I'm so sorry, Titania. I wish I could say something to make you feel better, but... Rhys wouldn't want me to lie."

Titania couldn't say anything for a moment, and involuntarily put a hand to her mouth. Mist looked pained, so she made an effort to smile and say, "I know."

Mist swallowed, waiting. When Titania didn't say anything else, and it was clear that no explosion of tears was forthcoming, the younger woman took a deep breath, summoning a matching smile. "Well, I'll keep the kettle warm, if you want to come out into the kitchen for a bit. I'm... I think I'm going to go upstairs and pray." She smiled, and Titania could see the tenderness in her eyes. "For both of you."

Wordlessly, Titania reached out and pressed Mist's hand. The younger woman bent down over the bed, gently kissing the priest's forehead, and left as quietly as she'd come.

Titania looked out the window again; as the door closed, she closed her eyes, feeling the tears slowly trickle unchecked down her face.

* * *

She did eventually go to the common room later that afternoon, just to find some food and share a cup of tea with the two hawks. They'd all been spending too much time with their laguz friends, she reflected. It was almost second nature to expect no one to sicken or die. Like these two exuberant birds, everyone would stay young forever.

As she waited, back in her place by the head of the bed, Titania felt exhaustion tugging at her. She'd been awake all night, after all. She crossed her arms on the bedspread, laying her cheek on them, and before she knew it she had fallen asleep. Strange dreams crept through her mind, of people she'd never met and battles she'd never fought.

Suddenly she felt someone's hand running through her hair; startled, and not entirely sure where she was, Titania sat up, thrashing. She looked over to see her husband, his thin face exhausted, yet beaming with happiness at seeing her.

"Sorry," said Rhys, sounding a little sheepish. "You just looked so sweet, I couldn't resist."

"No, it's all right," she said automatically. Then Titania realized that she wasn't still sleeping, and felt a real and genuine smile coming over her face; she reached out to take his hand. "I hate to sound like a broken record, but how are you feeling?"

"Just fine," he said cheerfully. "Sleeping always does me good."

Titania knew he was lying, of course: there was no way to mask the lines pain had carved on either side of his nose and mouth. But it was so easy just to let his voice fool her: and he did look better, much more alert and with better color. "Your voice is back, too."

"I should probably thank Mist for that," Rhys said, very seriously. "I don't know where she got the recipe, but that tonic she mixed up made the coughing vanish right away."

Titania didn't have the heart to tell him what had really been in that tonic: how far Mist had sent for some of the ingredients, and that the tonic was probably the only reason he had been able to sleep. So she just nodded, trying to look as happy as possible. "That's good." To see him awake and smiling should be enough, right?

_My problem_, Titania thought, _is that I'm not used to this slow process_. And that was probably the real issue for all the Mercenaries. When someone died, it was sudden and at the hands of an enemy: Commander Greil, all those years ago, and friends they knew in the Crimea area... there had been no time to plan her feelings.

Anger and grief were always acceptable responses to someone's death when they were lost in battle. But when Rhys and Mist had finally decided that his illness was probably terminal, they had both exhibited almost a sense of relief. Titania hated that. She couldn't bear to see him suffer, but neither could she be like anyone else, and look forward to a time when he would be in a "better place," whatever the hell that meant.

"I can't—" she blurted out, then closed her lips again, embarrassed to think that she'd almost revealed herself. Hastily, she added, "I swear my clothes are clean... can I crawl in with you?"

Rhys laughed. "Silly. It's half your bed, of course you can." Titania reached down to pull off her boots—she hadn't been outdoors in two days, so even they were clean—and slid under the covers, nestling carefully next to him.

As she put an arm around him, he said, "Mmm, you're even warm, too."

The agony of what that statement really meant (that even in the late days of summer, he was cold) ate at her; she tried to stop herself, hiding her face under his chin as the one tiny tear snuck out. She sniffed, trying to stay silent. There was a sigh, and Rhys said, "You may have exactly one minute to cry. If it lasts any longer, I'm kicking you out, half your bed or not."

His tone, both mocking and gentle, finally made her laugh and cry all at the same time, clinging to him like a forlorn child. She let herself have the minute of tears, letting them fall unchecked.

When at last they stopped of their own accord, she wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so stupid."

"No. No, you're not," he said, even more gently than before. "You just need to stop torturing yourself, Tia."

She couldn't remember the last time he'd called her that: probably years. "I know." She sniffled one last time, and sighed. The sounds of night were coming on, as the sunlight faded; she could hear a nightingale singing in the tree near the window. Reaching up carefully, she laid her fingertips on his chest. "Much pain today?"

He gave the tiniest of shrugs, and put his hand over hers, his fingers cold and fragile. "Less than yesterday. You look exhausted—you stayed here all night, didn't you?"

Titania felt herself blushing. Why, after fifteen years of marriage, did she still feel so ridiculous when she was caught? "Well... yes."

But how could she have helped herself? Yesterday Rhys had insisted, with typical stubborn selflessness, that he should spend some time out in the common room, instead of making everyone come to visit him. And since she couldn't say no to anything he ever asked, Titania had helped him out of the room. He was too weak to stay long—an hour or so, most of that ecstatic glee on the part of some students who'd shown up—and the short trip, just up and down the hallway, had made him terribly sick.

Somewhere around nightfall, she'd been able to put away the basin, to tuck the covers around him as the pain came back, forcing frustrated tears from his eyes. Mist's tonic, again had done wonders, and finally he'd fallen asleep. But Titania had been so afraid: she herself was a wild sleeper and didn't dare crawl into bed with him, but she was so terrified that if she left...

"Thank you," he said now, unexpectedly, and with a finger moved her face so that he could kiss her. "Waking up with you here... whenever I'm with you, it feels all right."

Titania hiked herself up on an elbow to look at Rhys; as always, she felt better at the light shining in his eyes, at his incongruously bright shock of hair, just as orange as the day they'd met. The memory of that day flitted across her mind, as it had quite often as of late. "We're really strange, aren't we?" she said, absently. "Whenever one of us is weak, the other is always strong."

He nodded. She could sense him hesitating to add something, and raised her eyebrows. "Oh, all right," he said at last, laughing. "It's just... there's not a lot of time left. Doing stuff I never got to do, well, that's just too bad. But there are things I need to tell you, and..."

And you know I might start incoherently sobbing, Titania thought guiltily. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath; when she opened her eyes again, she could smile at him, without any hesitation. "I know. You don't want me to panic, and start crying. I won't... not now, if it's a good time."

There was a silence, as he gathered his thoughts. The nightingale had paused, as well, and now it began singing again, as if it knew what he was thinking. "I'm sorry for so many things, mostly. That... that I couldn't give you any children... all the times you were so worried—goddess, for right _now_, that you're so worried, about stupid things like even just touching me..."

She saw he was close to tears, and wanted to kick herself for being so obvious. "Titania, I want to give you all the love in the world. But I'm a selfish child, and I want all of it to come from me. You've been hurt so badly in the past, and I'm so sorry that I'm just another black mark on that long list."

"Oh—" Titania said, unable to help herself. "Oh, Rhys... you're not..." His tears had spilled, and she found herself kissing them away, pressing her face to his. "You could _never_ just be that. You've never hurt me, ever. And if I'm worried for you now, it's only because I love you more than ever before."

He put his arms around her suddenly—although she knew it must have hurt dreadfully—and they embraced for a long time before she heard his voice in her ear, low and earnest. "And I love you."


End file.
